


The Return of She-King

by AvaRip



Series: Tesselation [1]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-07-28 14:16:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20065387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRip/pseuds/AvaRip
Summary: “Sometimes you have to stop running from what you were and find out who you are truly meant to be”She spent years learning, training and preparing herself for what is yet to come.He spent years hurting, healing and letting go of the past.The moment they see each other again, one thing becomes clear about them and the bond that keeps bringing them back together: divided by time…united by destiny.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> For englishmajor226. If it wasn’t for your encouragement, persistence, motivation and guidance, this story would be still gathering dust in the back of my frontal lobe. Thank you for everything.
> 
> The title was inspired by the song “Return of the She-King’’ by Dead Can Dance. I don’t know the original meaning behind the “She-King’’ word, but I interpret it as a title that is given to a woman who is strong and passionate, determined and defiant – a leader in her own right, of her own life. I felt it suits Rogue and the way she’s depicted in this story perfectly so, here it is. 
> 
> The story takes place after the events of “The Wolverine” and is mostly centered on Rogue – her feelings, thoughts and reactions – about her life, her past, her relationships with the people she cares about, and Logan. 
> 
> This plot is meant to be explored in a much longer fic; not sure if i'd be able to pull through – since this is my first attempt to write Rogan fanfiction – I decided to make an 8 chapter fic first, as a “teaser”, where I pretty much give some basic information about the main characters and the story that takes place. All the details about Rogue’s past and life, about what’s happened to the X Men while Logan was gone and the events that are going to follow, will be analyzed in the longer fic I plan to begin in autumn. This fic also works as a stand-alone – though some things are left pretty vague –, so you may see it as such as well.
> 
> Feel free to share your opinion about the story, the characters, what you like, what you don’t, what doesn’t work for you etc. Feedback is always more than welcome. 
> 
> I have read some incredible fics in the past that had equally amazing soundtrack, posted by the writers. Being inspired by it, I decided to share my motivational music that helped me through the “hit the writer’s wall” times. Enjoy!
> 
> PLAYLIST  
• Return of the She-king – Dead Can Dance  
• The key – Harry Gregson Williams (Total Recall OST)  
• Become the beast – Karliene  
• White Plains – Two Steps From Hell  
• Devil’s backbone – The Civil Wars  
• Riding the blues – Snowy White  
• The grindhouse blues – Robert Rodriguez (Planet Terror OST)

She had decided to return to the Mansion some time ago. She stopped for a moment to look at the overwhelming sight of the building rising before her. It wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same. _She _wasn’t the same.

Rogue had crossed the threshold of the big oak doors for the first time years ago. Struggling to come to terms with her "gift", she soon realized the price she had to pay was much higher than most mutants’.

After she decided to take the cure, "Rogue" no longer existed. For once more she was "Marie". Not the one who was ostracized from her home for being someone – _something_ – she never chose to be in the first place, but the one who had turned her back to her powers for a chance at something she thought she’d never be able to have. The one who was now a _"coward_" and a_"traitor_" to her kind and because of that, could no longer stay.

The day she closed the door behind her she was barely 19, leaving a place she once called home for the second time, once more trying to find her place in this world.

A few months later, life came to knock her feet off the ground, reminding her that you can run from yourself, hide from the world, pretend to be someone you ‘re not…but no matter what, you cannot deny nor change who you are underneath. A most important lesson painfully taught and well learned after the cure worn off.

When Marie left the X Mansion she was a young girl; after Logan disappeared without any intention of ever coming back, she had followed, leaving no sign or trace of where she was heading.

Everyone thought she was gone for good as well, though her closest friend – the _only _friend she had left – hoped otherwise.

Now, years later, a woman resembling only in the slightest way that young girl, was stepping into the grounds of the school. While she was getting closer, the people who knew her recognized her immediately…and not.

The person who once carried the names "Rogue" and "Marie" had returned; "Marie", or "Rogue" as they knew her, had not.

It was so strange. This woman who was coming towards their way seemed like she was crossing the gates for the first time – as if she had never stepped her foot here before. In a way, she hadn’t. Yet, her reappearance after all these years, her resurfacing after all the silence that filled her absence and the rising questions about her whereabouts seemed like a return…the return of someone she had been hiding underneath – under layers of clothes, fear and uncertainty; under all her pain.

The return of a warrior, carrying a sea of souls within.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogue has a conversation, and things begin to unravel

He knew where to find her. Not because of his feral senses, or her distinct scent that always felt so unique and fetching – an impact it seemed to have in every feral mutant. Every week this particular day and time she was in the same place she always was, performing the same ritual. Today, she seemed even more inclined to spend time there – more than the usual.

As he was approaching the clearing, he could see her feminine silhouette standing still, looking eerie…almost otherworldly. Covered in a long black dress that kept her skin and its sheer force hidden, it also managed to reveal her formidable strength and presence. Her hair was covered with a black hood and the way her head was leaning towards the graves of their beloved friends, made her look like she was letting out a silent prayer.

Whispered words were filling the air and suddenly she seemed to him like a druidess, trying to call the spirits of the dead. It wouldn’t surprise him if she managed. If there was anyone who could connect with the soul and energy of other people, who could understand the passage from one form of life and existence to another, that was Rogue.

He was a few feet away now, yet he knew she was aware he was coming long before he was close enough for her to hear him. She acknowledged his presence by speaking first, always keeping her back at him, her attention focused continuously on the carved stones.

"You should have known by now that it’s pretty impossible to sneak up on me, don’t you think?" she asked as she slowly turned her lovely face towards him, giving him an enigmatic smile.

"I would never make the mistake to assume anything less my dear," Hank responded, returning the gesture with a friendly smile of his own.

He was standing beside her now; looking at the graves of the fallen ones they had paid their respects to just this morning – both as mutants and X men. Over the past four years the little sad cemetery of the X Mansion has grown and now next to the tombstones of Cyclops and Jean more fallen friends, comrades and innocents were resting.

A memorial took place every year around this time; a way to reminisce the ones they would always miss and honor their life as much as their death and sacrifices. For Rogue, it seemed like that wasn’t enough. The last day of the week – every week –, right before the sun was set she would come down here to light a candle placed on each grave and say a few words.

Hank himself was never much of a believer. To him, science held more truths than spirituality. But for someone with Rogue’s gift, with the mental and emotional consequences such power brought upon her…that path seemed to suit her better.

"What are you doing here Hank? I thought the memorial we had today was more than enough for a scientist who only believes in the tangible" she mused, trying to lighten the mood. He could see she was sensing his tension, and he could not be more grateful that she was trying to make it easier for him.

Hank let out a quiet laugh. "I might seek proof for everything that attempts to capture my attention on a theoretical level Rogue, but like everyone else, I also sometimes need to feel closer to the things and people I cannot reach."

At that, she gave him a sad look of understanding and a friendly caress on his shoulder. She seemed to have the ability to be attuned with one’s feelings – another sign that the woman she had become held little to no resemblance to the hesitant girl doctor McCoy had met for the first time in Charles’ office so long ago.

"We all need consolation at some point of our life. Even when it comes from places opposed to our personal beliefs. You don’t have to embrace the idea of the afterlife like Kurt does in order to accept the comfort it offers," she said in a calm tone that helped soothe his nervousness.

"…but we both know that’s not the reason you came back here," she continued. "Is there something you wanna talk about?"

Hank let out a sigh and tried to stall for a little longer. "I have to admit, your extraordinary ability to read other people’s minds without being a telepath always leaves me mesmerized."

A soft smile was drawn on her lips again and he saw a glint of mischief crossing her eyes.

"I’m a woman. Did you really expect anything less?"

Hank laughed and felt his mood lighten a bit. She always had a way to make him feel comfortable and at ease in her presence, and he enjoyed the way she was enriching her sense of humor with hints of sass and generous amounts of sarcasm at times.

"My dear girl, I have fallen victim to many errors regarding your mutation and have reached several wrong conclusions when it came to you as an individual in the past. I, by all means, do not attend to repeat such mistakes ever again."

Rogue continued to look at him with the same amusement and decided it was time for the kind feral to start talking about whatever it was that brought him back to the clearing in the first place.

"I’m glad to hear that," she nodded. "But I helped you postpone whatever it is you want to tell me long enough. What’s going on?"

Hank inhaled deeply. "You know that Charles and Erik left after the memorial service to go and collect a mutant we hope will be inclined to join us."

Rogue nodded, looking at him intently, waiting for him to finish what he started.

"What you were not informed is that this ‘new recruit’…is Logan. Charles and Erik are heading to the airport right now to meet with him."

Rogue blinked, but said nothing. She kept staring at the blue-furred mutant calmly, without showing any reaction.

Hank stood there waiting for her to do or say something…but that never happened. After a few more moments of silence, Rogue raised her eyebrows and leaned her head towards him. "And?"

He felt a little startled by her reaction, not sure how to continue. "Well…that is it, to be honest," he finished awkwardly.

Her lips started forming a smile again, one that was getting wider as she was turning completely to face him. "Is that why Ororo seemed so nervous this morning while she was talking with you? That’s what made her so worried?"

"You heard our discussion? You were aware what this was all about since before I came to find you?" Hank asked surprised.

"I’m not in habit of eavesdropping, as you know," Rogue answered, "but even if I was, I wouldn’t need to this time. Ororo might come with the name ‘Storm’, but she hardly ever allows herself to be anything but calm and controlled – unless she chooses to. Today, it was obvious she had a hard time to keep her inner turmoil in check – although there was no need for all this panic."

"How so?" Hank was confused.

"Because I _was_ aware what this was all about since before you came to find me," Rogue said, answering Hank’s question with the exact same words he had vocalized it.

Hank remained stone still as he was processing what he’d just heard. "How is this possible? Charles informed me and Ororo about Logan’s upcoming return to New York last night, after you had retired. He personally asked me and Ororo to prepare you for this event so there wouldn’t be any…" he hesitated, trying to find the right word. Rogue’s both eyebrows lifted, provoking Hank to complete his sentence; "…discomfiture," he finished.

"For him? Or me?" Rogue asked with a hint of irony.

"Both, I imagine," the blue feral responded, feeling more and more eager to finish this conversation. "Charles insisted on going to find Logan himself, fearing that if someone else did, he wouldn’t be as inclined to return."

Rogue nodded, thinking about it. "I have to admit, it’s a good plan. Wolverine always held a lot of respect for the Professor. Who would be more appropriate than him for this task? Besides, a man that is practically immortal would be more willing to listen and be convinced by a ‘dead man' who managed to cheat death and come back. Don’t you think?" she continued, now looking a bit irritated by the Professor’s request to Hank and Storm to cushion the blow.

Hank tried to lead the conversation to a less dangerous ground. She still hadn’t answered him how she’d found out.

"If it is not too much of an indiscretion…may I ask _how_ did you find out?"

Rogue gave him a nod to start walking towards the mansion. "Magneto," she said after they have taken a few steps.

Hank halted abruptly. "Erik? _He _told you?"

"Uh huh," Rogue nodded once more while she kept walking. Hank quickened his pace to be beside her once more. He shook his head angrily.

"Charles warned him not to interfere. He specifically told him to leave this to Ororo and me."

"And Charles actually believed that Erik would listen?" Rogue asked in a mildly harsh tone.

Hank was surprised again. Rogue never called Xavier by his name. To her, he was always "the Professor", a mentor and a father-figure that she admired, respected immensely and always looked at with a softness and tenderness that her eyes rarely held anymore.

Hank tried again. "My dear…"

"Hank..." Rogue interrupted him. She closed her eyes with a sigh. "Erik is an ally now, but that does not mean he’s a _friend_. Even to the Professor. I understand – _know_ – about their friendship and connection first hand, but all of that is buried under the dust of everything that happened between the X men and the Brotherhood and the war that’s upon us." At that point, Rogue stopped walking and turned to face Hank once more.

"He proved what kind of man he was four years ago, on the Statue of Liberty, when he forced me to take his place on his machine, because his life was too important to be sacrificed – even for the sake of his sacred ‘cause’." To that, Hank tried to say something, but she stopped him by raising her hand.

"I know that you think I feel this way because of what he did to me, but it’s more than that. Look what he tried to do to the Professor. How many times he brought him on the verge of death? He sabotaged Cerebro when he was trying to find me, he left him captive in an illusion at Alkali lake, when Phoenix…" at that she stopped and shut her eyes. Hank waited, allowing her to finish.

"He’s only willing to go as far as his self-preservation allows him. He’s willing to make sacrifices as long as he’s not the one to do them. He’ll do anything and everything to make sure that something doesn’t derail his plans, without caring or respecting other’s opinions. You want proof of that? The Professor told you and Storm to talk to me, but Erik’s trust in us dealing with personal matters that might affect the life of the school or the missions is lacking so much, that he decided to prepare me himself for Wolverine’s return."

Hank began to realize the reason behind Rogue’s frustration. At first, he thought it was because the Professor didn’t come to inform her himself about his intention to bring Logan back. Now, it became obvious it was more about his decision to put his trust in people he shouldn’t have, instead of her. He could understand her bitterness – though he had no idea how deep it went.

"He came to find me after I left," Rogue continued. "I was walking around the school, like I do before I go to bed, and saw him approaching. He told me about today’s ‘pickup mission’ and informed me that the Professor was about to ask from you and Ororo to make sure I’d know in a ‘delicate way’. He asked me if I was going to be alright with Wolverine being back at the mansion and if his return here would make it hard for me to keep ‘performing’ as well as I do so far."

Hearing those words, Hank began to feel as angry and a growl rising in his throat almost escaped him. "What was your response to him, if I may ask?"

"I said goodnight and left." Rogue said and she started walking again. She turned to look at Hank, who now had lowered his head. "He considers me valuable. With my new powers, training, and experience I’m considered a most important ‘_asset’_. I’m useful to him – not in the way I was few years ago of course, but still…as long as I am useful he can’t afford to risk any ‘inconvenience’ that might draw me away from here."

Hank reached out and caught her by the elbow to stop. "Could you please do me a favor?" Rogue looked at him, a bit at a loss by his reaction. "Can you stop addressing yourself like you‘re some kind of a weapon that will be considered expendable after its usage is done?"

Rogue stared at him, disappointment in her eyes. "Why all this turmoil, Hank? Why such panic about my reaction to Wolverine’s return? Do any of you have _any_ idea what I’ve been through these past few years? What made you believe that I can’t handle _this_?"

Hank looked at her with an apologetic look in his eyes. "My dear friend, if my way to approach you on this matter offended you, I am deeply and sincerely sorry. It was not my intention to imply that you cannot handle yourself when it comes to personal matters – or one of any other nature. But Rogue, the truth is that you and Logan were close. He was very important to you and you had an immensely strong connection and bond with each other. It was only natural for me, Charles and Ororo to worry about what his return might mean to you after all these years and how you would react to it. And the truth is that the way you avoid calling him by his real name makes me wonder if you are not so comfortable about it as you claim."

Rogue seemed to consider what Hank said. After a moment, she raised her eyes to him, a depth in them that gave away the experiences and knowledge she’d been collecting through her power, loss, and devastation – a vast spectrum of wisdom that extended beyond her 23 years.

"You’re right. He and I _were_ close. He _was_ very important to me and we _had_ an immensely strong connection and bond with each other. You chose the past tense correctly Hank. Because this ‘bond’ or ‘friendship’ or however you wanna call it, belongs there…in the past. I don’t know this man who’s coming to the Mansion. Just his name…_Wolverine_. And you can be sure he has no idea who _I_ am either. I’m not who I was Hank. Everything’s changed. _I_ changed. And I don’t expect from him to be the same person he was either. And neither should any of you."

With that, Rogue began to walk again. They were near the school’s entrance now. But before she reached for the doors, she turned around to face Hank one last time. "And Hank…?"

The blue mutant lifted his head, and she continued; "It’s not my reaction you all should be worrying about when he and I cross paths again…it’s _his_."

And without another word, she entered the Mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after the mid-credits scene of "The Wolverine" movie, where Logan discovers the Professor is still alive, and Magneto is now an ally.
> 
> This chapter is also from Logan's POV.

Logan couldn’t help the twist he was feeling in his gut while the Professor was informing him about the events that had followed his departure all this time ago. Jesus, how long has it been…3 or 4 years?

After what happened at Alcatraz, he had left the mansion and the country torn, broken, caught up too deep in his own grief to care about anything or anyone outside his pain. Time, the world itself, and everything he had known for the past couple of decades just didn’t matter anymore. More than a year had passed when Yukio found him and till her arrival he wasn’t willing to go back to living again. It took a trip to Japan, long buried memories, bloodshed, and being dragged to the brink of permanent death to shake him out of this lethargic mourning. And then hope had followed…hope that not everything was lost as long as he was willing to keep going.

After he left the country of the rising sun, he felt he had risen himself. Where sorrow, regret and guilt once dwelled, there was now redemption, deliverance and something that resembled, in the slightest of ways, peace.

Little did he know that while he was finding a form of peace, the people he once called friends and family were facing the threat of open war.

When the plane landed, he knew why he had made the decision to return. But after he stepped his foot on solid ground, he wasn’t so sure it was a good idea anymore. His first thought after he had bought that one-way ticket to New York was the X Mansion and all the people that lived there. Far too many times he wondered during those years of travelling; where they doing well? Did the Professor’s legacy kept living? Was everything going ok after the revelation that the cure wasn’t permanent? Was _she_…?

To that, Logan had stopped to a halt. Too long. He’d been gone too long. What had happened to her? He knew he had no right to wonder after the way he had disappeared. The fact that he’d done nothing to have even the slightest contact all those years made things worse. But everytime he was near a phone and had a chance to communicate with her or anyone at the mansion, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Too many memories, too many mistakes; too many "what ifs"…too much weakness.

After that, Erik’s stunt at the security check-point and the Professor’s appearance had stripped him from any hesitation of what to do. He had listened in awe as he and Magneto told him that they were there to pick him up and take him back to the Mansion.

And now after the first wave of shock was gone, Logan was sitting in the back of a black SUV that Erik was driving, getting informed about everything that took place while he was absent. And the one question that, during all these years, had drilled itself into his mind, making him stay up some nights, wanting to press "dial" after he’d punched the buttons to form a certain phone number he knew too well…was still unanswered.

"Logan?" the Professor called. "Are you alright?"

"Huh?" Logan jumped from the sudden comeback to reality. "Uhhh…yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, Charles. It’s just…too much shit to deal with in one take, that’s all." 

The Professor turned to look at him and gave him a wry smile. "I understand. I suppose seeing me alive after all those years you thought I was dead – and with Erik by my side of all people – was overwhelming enough."

Logan nodded, still feeling a bit numb. "Are you gonna tell me now how the hell you‘ve done that? I saw you turning into pieces for Christ’s sake! And because of _that_ asshole!" Logan pointed at Erik who gave him a blunt look from the rear mirror. 

"Logan please, try to calm yourself. I understand your agitation, but as I’ve been telling you, it’s been almost 4 years since you left. Many things have changed; and along with these things, so did the people who were affected by them."

"So what, we trust him now?" Logan said lifting an eyebrow.

"Yes," the Professor responded, not leaving room for arguments. "As for how I’m still alive…does it really matter at this point?"

Logan brought a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes. "I suppose not…" he said defeated. Healing factor or not, flying was never fun and everything that happened after he landed was taking too much energy for him to process. He felt exhausted. Still, there were questions that wouldn’t leave him alone unless he answered them, so he decided to go for it.

"How long since you…came back?" he asked.

"It took me a few weeks to return to Westchester. Until then, life was almost back to normal at school. But not in the rest of the world, I’m afraid. Hank was doing an excellent job restoring the mutant reputation as ambassador and Storm along with Bobby and Kitty where also contributing in every way they could. Sadly, as it appeared a few months later, that was not enough," the Professor concluded.

"You‘ve been dealing with all that shit for years?" Logan asked surprised. "Why the fuck didn’t you try to find me sooner?"

"Why haven’t _you_ tried to reach _us_ sooner? Haven’t you heard all these years what was happening, or were you trying _not _to listen?" Erik jumped into the conversation briskly. At that Logan froze, not knowing how to respond other than letting out a low growl.

"Erik…" Charles said quietly and Erik kept driving, remaining silent for the rest of the route. "Logan, after I returned, Storm informed me about everything; what took place at Alcatraz Island, your departure and the way it was done. And from your reluctance to communicate, I figured you needed time alone without any intrusion – especially from people who would bring back painful memories. Besides, I did not think there was anything I – or anyone else – could do to help you at that time. You wouldn’t listen…so I decided to let you be until you were ready to return by your own decision," the Professor concluded.

"So what, you’ve been tracking me down all this time? That’s how you knew I was coming back?" Logan asked.

"Let’s just say I always keep an eye on my people," Charles answered vaguely. "And I consider you one of my people, Logan. Part of the X-Men family."

At that, Logan felt a twinge of guilt. Charles was the only person who had offered his help to him back when all he had was a trashy trailer and a mind filled with nightmares and blurred memories. He had taken him in, given him hope and not once had ever asked for anything in return for everything he had offered. Up until that point, the Professor was the only other person he had ever treated Logan with respect, who had cared about him. He and…

At that thought, Logan cleared his throat. "You said Storm, Kitty and Iceprick – Bobby! – were helping Hank do some damage control?" Logan said, wincing a bit as the Professor gave him a sharp look at Bobby’s nickname.

"Yes," Charles responded.

"What, uhhh…what about the rest?" Logan asked hesitantly, staring at Erik’s back cautiously.

"Everyone is alright Logan, I assure you," the Professor said, sensing Logan’s uneasiness.

A few quiet moments passed, before Logan felt the Professor’s mind slightly pressing on his own. _"Logan, my friend, I remember how uncomfortable this way of communication makes you feel, but I can sense that you need to ask questions, yet hesitate because of Erik’s presence. If you cannot wait until we reach the Mansion, you can ask me anything you want mentally and I will answer you._"

Logan was a bit wary about this, but since Erik’s ears would stay away from their talk, was good enough for him.

Logan took a deep breath and braced himself. _"How’s the kid?_"

_"Rogue? She’s…doing well,_" Charles responded, not sure how much he should reveal.

At that name, Logan’s eyes shot up. "_Rogue?_"

At his surprise, Charles couldn’t help to give him a look of confusion from the rear mirror. "_Yes, Logan. Rogue._"

"_Is that the name she goes by now?_" Logan asked surprised.

"_Was there ever a time during her stay at the Mansion that she used another?_" the Professor asked, puzzled.

_"No! No. I just…_" Logan said and then stopped. He didn’t know what to say. He brought to his mind the night she’d left to take the cure. She seemed so determined. So willing to take the risk. So _vulnerable_.

_I want to be able to touch people Logan. A hug…a handshake…a kiss…_

And then the way she looked at him when he treated her like an equal, like the young woman she was…

_I’m not your father, I’m your friend._

He knew she hadn’t been a kid long before that night. But, he never truly realized it until then. Had he known how things would turn out, he would have acted differently. He wouldn’t have let her go. He would have tried harder to make her stay. He would have gone with her. He would have said…

Logan shook his head. He didn’t know why, but for some reason the way Charles had said that she was fine made his animal growl in suspicion. The girl he knew had left the school determined to be someone else, someone…_normal_. The fact that she was still called Rogue in absence of any other known name didn’t sound right. Something was off and the closer they were getting to the Mansion, the more he was thinking that even though the Professor had told him a lot about the events that happened while he was gone, he carefully kept from him information about the people. And that wasn’t good.

Erik crossed the gates of the school, and Logan focused his attention at the gardens and the impressive building that was rising before him, remembering all the times he had spent in it. The good; the bad; the painful. And right before the SUV entered the school’s garage, Logan couldn’t help the ominous feeling rising within him, thinking the name Charles had called "the kid" with;

_Rogue? She’s…doing well._

Logan focused on the last time he saw her before she left. What he’d told her and the way she responded. Her hope in her eyes and how bright her smile was when she answered him with one word; one name that no one knew, but him;

_Think about what I said Rogue._

_Marie._

_Marie…_

He stepped out of the car, following Charles to his office, replaying this one line again and again.

_Rogue? She’s…doing well._

_What happened to her?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments!


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change of weather brings a change of heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my intentions when i began to write this story, was to redeem several characters from their irrational behavior, mistakes and bad choices they've made in X3. I understand that this was a result of bad writing, but I still wanted to do it in a way that would seem realistic, and which would eventually restore their character development to something that makes sense. I hope this chapter will give you this feel.

The blue sky accompanied by few white clouds foreboded a lovely, peaceful day – a sign that the spring was reaching its peak. But, despite the warmth the sun offered to its people beneath, it could still not chase away the tempest of ominous feelings that threatened to rise within the weather witch.

Her crystal blue eyes rose up and let the cool breeze, that had snuck inside her office through the open window, caress her lovely face that was now slightly tampered with worry. Worry for Rogue, for Logan, for the decision that was made rashly and within too little time, and involved both of them.

Ororo couldn’t shake the doubts that were implanted within her, after her conversation with Hank about informing Rogue of Logan’s return was over. She kept replaying the words Hank had told her again and again. The way Rogue had reacted, the way she had responded to him about this…little "scheme" of theirs to approach her about the Professor’s intentions, had made her feel a wave of guilt.

Storm was not a stranger to this feeling when it came to the young woman. Four years had passed since that forsaken day the _"cure"_ – as they had called it – had appeared, and even though she never showed Rogue her sorrow about the decision she had made, she was still burdened by the words and accusations she had used to describe the ones that would choose to take it.

Sighing heavily she shut her eyes and lowered her head, shaking it slightly with shame. She had no right to judge. She had no right to condemn. What did she know about the mutants that chose to take the cure? What did she know about their struggles, or how heavy the price of the powers they possessed was? Hank was right. How was it cowardness to wish for a life where you felt you belong? Where people weren’t staring at you like you were some kind of monster? Where your _own people_, your fellow mutants weren’t treating you like an outsider – even though they knew what that felt like?

Storm knew she was wrong to react the way she did, to attack like that. But it was a dark time, where her mind and heart were blurred by a cloud of anger. First Jean, who was more like a sister to her, was gone, sacrificing herself to save all of them when the humans, once more, were trying to decimate the mutants from the face of this earth; and then Scott had followed. Day after day, the man who was the X Men’s leader, and a beloved friend, was losing himself to his grief over the woman he loved and had lost, and Storm could do nothing but watch him slowly fade away. The announcement of the cure was the final straw in a series of events that she felt responsible she wasn’t able to put to a halt.

But still, she had no right to heavy Rogue’s shoulders with her blame. She had already been through so much, and the way Ororo had responded – even though she was hoping Rogue would see it as a sign of support to her – had only made things worse for the young girl. Storm looked back at that moment when she stood up, preaching to the other mutants in Charles’ office – all of them "gifted" with powers that came with a high cost – and remembered Rogue’s face when she claimed that nothing was wrong with any of them. Suddenly the regret felt too great and the tempest she was trying hard to control within her heart started to make its existence known, by painting the little white clouds above the Mansion grey.

The sky let out a rumble of disappointment, expressing vocally Storm’s mood, when she heard a small creak as her half closed door opened a bit wider. She turned her head to see who it was and saw Rogue approaching with a mischievous look in her eyes, a sneaky smirk on her lips and her hands raised graciously in a "I surrender" gesture.

"Hold your thunder, weather goddess," she said as she approached slowly, pretending she was trying to be careful. "I come in peace."

Storm’s smile lit her face and warmed her sapphire eyes, while she turned around to greet her friend.

"You are one of the few people that will never have to worry about attracting any of my thunder, Rogue," she said and decided to tease back. "Though I cannot make any promises about rainbows."

Rogue’s mischievous expression turned into a tender, sweet one as her hands were lowering, and Storm had the opportunity to experience one of these rare moments where Rogue gave a glimpse of the person she once was.

The younger woman let the white stripes of her hair fall back as she raised her head slightly to look at the troubled weather. "Can this upcoming drizzle be avoided or should I tell everyone to keep their umbrellas close?"

Storm looked behind her shoulder and realized what her foul mood had caused. "Oh," she said feeling a bit embarrassed, "I’m sorry for that." Within seconds, her silent command cleared the sky and the sun was back in all its brightness.

She turned back to Rogue and took a better look at her. She was different than she was this morning. She had changed into high-heeled, knee boots in dark green color, black leather tights and a green, sleeveless, turtleneck blouse. Long, black leather gloves were covering her hands all the way up to her arms. Her long hair framed her face while they fell like a long curtain half way down her back, and she seemed like she was more cautious than usual.

Storm didn’t know what to make of this. She, herself, had changed as well after the end of the memorial. It was never a pleasant occasion to her – she preferred honoring her deceased loved ones in her own way. So the moment the service was over, she had traded her black clothes with favored white ones.

But with Rogue, nothing was _that_ simple after her return. It seemed as if everything she did and said had a hidden meaning, lying behind the words and actions. Even the way she dressed always felt like it had a secret purpose that targeted on extracting certain reactions.

Storm could practically see the wheels turning inside Rogue’s head, spinning too quickly with each moment passed for the weather whisperer to see what she had in mind. But she could guess what the purpose of her friend’s visit was. Before she managed to think of something to break the stretched silence, Rogue beat Ororo to it;

"I would offer a penny for them, but I know well enough that your thoughts are far too expensive for me to afford," Rogue humored.

"Knowing your powers and how singularly your mind works, that should be _my_ line," Storm "retaliated".

Rogue let out a small laugh and walked closer to the ebony woman. "I’m sorry I didn’t knock. Hank told me I‘d find you here, and the moment I sensed the abrupt change of weather, I felt I should hurry up and check if you’re alright."

"The door was half open anyway. And for you, it will always be wide open with me here to welcome you anytime," she said with a smile and gave Rogue another look-over.

"You look lovely, as always. But are these really necessary?" she asked, pointing at the long gloves with a look, focusing on the reason she was wearing them. "You rarely wear gloves this long anymore and you have no problem walking among the people in the Mansion without even wearing any sometimes," she concluded.

Rogue’s pleasant facade dropped and allowed her grave’s mood ugly head appear. "You know as well as I do that even though there haven’t been any 'incidents' since I came back, most of the residents only have to see me approach to…recoil."

"The majority of these '_residents'_ don’t even worth an inch of your time or attention," Storm said angrily.

"True," Rogue agreed. "The Brotherhood lackeys that decided to follow Erik here are as valid as their leader’s promises for 'mutant superiority'. But it’s not them I’m talking about; and as much as I hate to admit it, whether they come from a friend or an enemy…words will always cut as deep as the sharpest blade, Ororo."

Storm let that final sentence sink in. Rogue was right. It didn’t matter how many times you’ve been through the "bigotry treatment". It didn’t matter how many walls you built, or how solid they were, in order to protect yourself from hatred and prejudice. It didn’t even matter when you succeeded to stop blaming yourself about it and grew strong enough to become immune to the pain. Harsh words always seemed to find a way to corrode the most resilient defenses – a proof that no matter how sturdy one’s confidence was, the most humane parts of us always lead back to doubt.

The weather witch felt sorrow engulfing her. She didn’t really know what to say to help her friend let this go. What pained her the most though, was that after all this time Rogue had been back, not _once_ she ever called Storm with the nickname she was given long time ago; "’Ro".

After Rogue’s graduation and addition to the team, the former teacher had become a teammate and a close friend to the young female mutant. "Miss Monroe" was no longer appropriate, so Storm had asked Rogue to call her by her name. After sometime, and with Jean’s "absence", Ororo had found a new companion to the young girl and, in time, they had grown closer. Rogue using her nickname had come naturally and had remained this way…until the cure.

Even after enough time had passed, Rogue was still not inclined to use the familiar nickname she once used to call her with. It was always "Storm", especially during the missions, and "Ororo" during their private moments. It seemed almost insignificant, but Storm knew that it was an indication of Rogue’s constant wariness; even after being in the Mansion for so long, she still trusted _no one_ entirely…and that hurt. 

Storm decided that she was treading on too thin of ice, so she took the conversation back to its original purpose. "Are you sure this is the reason you put those gloves on today – out of all the days you’ve been treated with hesitation everytime you expose your skin? Or is it because you want to be discreet about the progress you’ve made with your control?"

Rogue crossed her arms and walked slowly toward the open window, standing next to Storm. "I know you talked with Hank after he and I finished our conversation. I felt it was necessary to have a similar one with you, but I have to warn you Storm...I’m not in the mood for mindgames," Rogue pointed out and turned to give a sharp look at the ebony woman beside her.

The weather witch looked at Rogue carefully, watching her becoming more distant, while her addressing Ororo with her code name didn’t go unnoticed either.

"I’m not in such mood either, Rogue, I assure you," Storm responded calmly. "And like Hank, I feel the need to apologize if we made you feel uncomfortable about the way we handled the whole situation."

Rogue sighed, bending her head slightly. "And I feel bad for making everyone thinking that I needed special treatment on this particular issue." She lifted her head, looking the other woman straight in the eyes. "I’m not in need of rescuing, Ororo. Not anymore."

Storm frowned, giving Rogue a stern look, one she hadn’t given her ever since she stopped being her teacher. "Is that what you think? That we didn’t consider you capable enough to deal with Logan’s return?" Storm scolded.

Rogue shrugged. "Isn’t that what all indications point at?"

"Did you stop to think for a moment that all indications were pointing that we _care_ about you enough to consider your feelings about this…'blast from the past'?" Storm answered with a question.

Silence filled the room for long moments, until Rogue finally responded; "I don’t have the luxury to think like that anymore . It’s a risk I can’t afford to take – no matter how much I _want_ to," she confessed bitterly.

Storm was confounded by this revelation. In all the conversations she had with Rogue – and they have been plenty – she never before had admitted, nor had shown her desire to be closer to any of them; not even to Jubilee, the only person who had been fully supportive of Rogue – no matter what choices she had made.

Storm turned to Rogue and put her hands on her gloved arms. "Rogue…" she said frowning, letting her surprise be obvious; "child…how many times have we fought side by side, protecting each other? How many times have we shared secrets and parts of us very few have ever seen? After everything we’ve been through, you still have doubts about our love for you? About _my_ loyalty to your friendship? You even _saved_ my life-" Storm continued, but Rogue chimed in, cutting her off.

"You had saved _my_ life first, Ororo," Rogue pointed out. _"Twice_. If anything, I owed you as much."

"You didn’t owe me anything. Not then, not now. Not _ever_," Storm said in a passionate tone.

Rogue took Storm’s hands in hers and held them tightly. "What makes you think I feel any different? You were more than a savior to me, Ororo. You were a mentor, a teacher; and when the time came you also became a leader, a teammate and one of my closest friends. I know I don’t show it the way I probably should, but I don’t take your friendship or camaraderie lightly. I trust you with my _life_, Ororo." Rogue paused for a second and then continued. "But, no matter how hard I try, how much I want to…I can’t trust you with my heart; not entirely. Nor anyone else." 

Storm looked heartbroken; not just for what Rogue had said, but mostly for the pain she let out, a pain apparently she’s been carrying all this time. "Is there any way…_anything_ I can do to earn your full trust again?" she asked solemnly.

Rogue let Storm’s hands and interlaced her fingers, thinking of a way to explain that would help Ororo see things from her perspective.

"What I’m gonna tell you is something I’ve never confessed to anyone. But before I begin, I need you to understand that I’m not doing this to punish you; I’m telling you this because you deserve to know…and I need to finally let it go."

Storm nodded. "I’m listening."

Rogue took a deep breath and began. "When I was brought to the school by you and Scott, the Professor had assured me that I would be more than welcome and accepted by everyone. Since you were all mutants, and many of the other kids were also runaways like me, it wouldn’t be hard for them to understand and accept me as I was. But he was wrong.

I still remember the way everyone was staring at me the next morning after the incident in Wolverine’s bedroom. I still remember the whispers, the awe and fear in everyone’s eyes…I just couldn’t take it. I went and sat at a corner at the rec room, watching some of the students playing foosball. I had a sandwich with me that I had taken from the school’s cafeteria, and decided to eat it there. I started taking my gloves off, when I realized that all sounds and noises had gone dead. I lifted my head and saw everyone looking at my bare hands. You should have seen the look on their faces; God…they acted like I was holding a goddamn grenade!" Rogue hissed, her mouth twisted in an exasperate expression. "I left and went to sit alone on a bench outside. You remember what happened afterwards…

After the Statue of Liberty, the Professor asked me to be patient with the other students and try not to judge them. My 'gift' was so extreme that it made people feel…_intimidated_. It would take time, but eventually everyone would come to terms with it," Rogue continued. "But they never did…

Things got better after I became close with Jubilee and Kitty, and Bobby was always there, trying to help me fit in and feel comfortable with my skin. But things didn’t change, Storm. Everytime I brushed accidentally up someone or everytime I took my gloves off to eat – even though I was always almost fully covered and extremely cautious –, people would flinch and made sure they avoided any kind of proximity."

Storm began to see what Rogue was dealing with all this time at the school. The Professor and the teachers all had assured her that she was part of their family and accepted in ways she was not on the outside world, but the truth was – as it turned out – that they had failed to make her feel that way.

"I was trying. I was trying really hard to learn how to control my skin – I really was; but the progress seemed too slow and there was always something holding me back – my doubts and fear that I’d never make it, the people that were trapped inside my head, my relationship with Bobby becoming more and more strained…" Rogue’s voice wavered a bit, and she stopped for a moment to pull herself together and out of the hurtful memories.

"And then when everything seemed like a lost cause, the cure came along. I shouldn’t have seen it as a lifeline or a solution to my inability to control my skin – I know that _now_. But I was too young…and too _desperate_," she finished in a self loathing tone.

Rogue looked up at Storm, who was now watching her with eyes filled with compassion and remorse. She swallowed hard and opened her mouth, but before she had the chance to say something, Rogue continued.

"When I practically barged into the Professor’s office, asking about the cure, I knew I would raise objections and turmoil; what I didn’t expect was that the one who would raise them would be _you_.

During our sessions, the Professor had revealed to me that I was not the only mutant struggling with my powers. He mentioned Scott, and his permanent inability to control his power because of an accident; about Jean and how hard it was for her sometimes _not_ to listen to other people’s thoughts. About you and how you must constantly keep your feelings under control in order to avoid causing a natural disaster.

My mutation is psychosomatic, Storm; when my mental or emotional state is off balance, it makes it much harder to keep my skin off and absorption can be lethal within few seconds only. I managed to find the trick a couple of years ago, when I…when I was in the lab; but I still haven’t managed to perfect the technique – as you already know," Rogue finished lowering her head in shame for her lack of strength to keep her power under control at all times.

"I thought that you of all people would understand, Ororo. You would understand and support me no matter what decision I was going to make. But instead-"

"I failed you," Storm completed the sentence while a knot was forming in her throat.

Rogue shook her head, sadness filling her eyes along with a gleam of tears that began to form. "You didn’t fail me, Ororo. You made me feel like _I_ had failed _you_; _all of you_; and that broke my heart."

Storm was speechless. She had no idea Rogue had felt like this. In Ororo’s mind, the one who was responsible for Rogue’s inability to allow her in again was her stance towards the choice Rogue had to make between keeping her powers or leading a "normal" life. She never imagined that the young girl had turned that situation into a meltdown that blamed entirely on herself.

"My family kicked me out of the house I grew up in because of what I was. For _months_ after I had left I was blaming myself for it. For being…like _this_," Rogue said, looking down at her gloved hands with anger. "And then I came here, and I was _too_ _much_ of a freak to match the other freaks. And then the chance to become again something I _knew_ how to be came along…and I failed the people I called _family_ for the second time," she finished resigned.

"Rogue," Ororo whispered. "I am _so_ sorry. I never meant for you to feel this way. My anger and objection against the cure had _nothing_ to do with your choice about it. I know I didn’t handle it in the best way, but…I never – _ever_ – intended to place this load on you. What I said that day, I _meant_ it. There is absolutely _nothing _wrong with you, nothing for _them_ to cure. You were _perfect_ the way you were. With or without control. I believed this back then, and I do believe it now as well," Storm finished, determination setting fire on her speech.

Rogue let a sad smile appear and gave a light touch to the woman’s dark face, realizing how much Storm wanted her to believe her words.

"Thank you, Ororo. I really appreciate you saying this. I did back then, and I do now. But it would have meant much more to me if you’d said those words while holding my _bare_ hand, instead of a gloved one," she said, and raised a covered hand in front of her to add more gravity to her words.

"I…I had no idea," Storm said, astonished by Rogue’s narration about her trials and tribulations – the whole conversation, turning into a true revelation to her.

"Of course you didn’t," Rogue told her, understanding overflowing her. "How could you when I let none of this out? When I buried everything deep within me, thinking that if I kept ignoring the problem it would just magically disappear? Believing that the cure would instantly solve everything, making things right? That’s why I don’t want you to blame this on yourself. I told you before I began confessing all this to you – l don’t mean to hurt you by letting you know; I’m just trying to free myself from it."

The weather witch stayed silent. There was so much turmoil within her, so much she wanted to say to the woman in front of her that was becoming evident she knew so little about; but she didn’t. This wasn’t about her; it was about Rogue and she knew she had to encourage her to bring the rest to the light as well.

"After I took the cure and returned to the Mansion, I had this…hope that things would get better. I wouldn’t have to struggle with control anymore; people wouldn’t have to be afraid of me; I could finally be back to the girl I once was. Until this decision backfired and forced me to see things the way they truly were…

Truth is, Ororo, I’ve been depending on people to fight my battles for too long. Expecting from others to protect me, understand me, justify every single action of mine. And all that because of the way I saw my powers. I victimized myself, convinced me that I deserve nothing but pity and repulsion and everytime someone proved me wrong, I turned him into an object of worship.

I’ve placed people on pedestals, called them 'heroes' and praised them, assuring myself that they would never prove me wrong. And after they started falling from their pedestals one by one, was when the truth hit me;"

"The truth?" Storm frowned, unable to comprehend.

"I was wrong, Ororo. I was wrong to expect from people to be perfect; to live up to the images I had made for them; to never fail my expectations. I had _no_ right to do that to any of you. We’re not gods; we’re not supposed to be perfect; being humans and retain the best parts of our humanity in a world so cruel and unfair is already hard enough. Putting people on a pedestal, _pushing_ them to do whatever necessary to stay on it was so unjust for me to do, because the only way they could go was _down_; as you all did…"

Storm realized that moment that Rogue was not only speaking about her. She could tell that many of those words and feelings were also for Logan. For the first time since she and Rogue became close, the young woman was finally putting a name to her feelings and admitting the reasons behind her teenage infatuation.

"I was angry for a long time," Rogue continued. "With God; fate; my family; you; the Professor; Bobby; the humans; my 'fellow mutants'…" at that she paused for a moment and swallowed hard. "Wolverine," she said while her jaw tensed and Storm could see that it was difficult for her to admit this, even now.

"But in time I realized that the one I was truly mad at, was _me_. Mad for my weakness, for being too much of a coward to try, to push myself. Mad for not giving enough credit to myself, for not having faith in me, in my ability to take control over my power, but also over my life. For settling with less, out of fear of not finding something better…"

Rogue lifted her head and looked at Storm. "You’re not the one that should be sorry, Ororo. It’s me. That was _my_ cross to bear, and I had no right to ask from anyone else to lift it for me. You had _your_ pain, _your_ losses to deal with…and I wasn’t there for you; I couldn’t. But you never held me responsible for it and I don’t want to blame you, or anyone else, anymore either. I just…I’m _afraid_ to do this. In the past four years, people I loved and trusted – both mutants and humans – turned their back on me the times I needed them the most. I’ve seen and tasted too much betrayal, Ororo. And it’s too painful. If it happens again…I don’t think I’ll be able to go through with it."

The tempest within Storm that was threatening to take control finally broke out, pouring rain drops out of the weather witch’s eyes. She opened her arms and encircled Rogue within them, holding her close in a warm embrace.

"Then don’t do it. Don’t force yourself. Let time heal your wounds. And let us show you that if you decide to trust us and let go, we won’t let you down," Ororo said, hoping that Rogue would feel this.

Rogue felt the beginning of tears in her eyes and tried to restrain herself. She held the ebony woman tenderly, letting her gratitude and affection pour through her, and suddenly she felt lighter than she’d been in a long while.

"Hey," Rogue said tenderly, caressing Storm’s back. "None of this, ‘Ro. You might not be on a pedestal anymore, existing for the sole purpose of pampering me, but you’re still the weather goddess remember?" she joked and Storm laughed, holding her even tighter when she realized how Rogue had called her.

"Come on mistress of the elements; pull yourself together," Rogue humored. "I already have enough people on my back for being who I am. I don’t need them to start on me for the cloudburst you’re gonna bring on if you keep like this."

With that Storm let her go, a wide smile on her face as understanding and a quiet acceptance passed between the two of them. Rogue returned the warm smile and nodded; it was a good start.

Suddenly, Rogue turned her eyes outside the window, as if she’d heard something. Storm turned around as well, though she could not see nor hear anything.

"What do you hear?" she asked.

"A car. Not too far from here. Probably two or three minutes before we see it driving through the gates," Rogue said, her face concentrated to a sound that was too far for anyone with human senses to hear.

"The Professor?" Storm asked.

Rogue shrugged a shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Do we expect anyone else?"

With that both women stepped closer to the window and saw a black SUV approaching while the gates of the Mansion were slowly opening to welcome it in.

"I’ll go tell the others to prepare for the meeting we’re having in 30 minutes," Storm said and started for the door. She stopped abruptly when she saw that Rogue had shown no intention to leave the office.

"Rogue? Are you coming?" She asked.

Rogue turned around, a mask that showed absolutely nothing, on her face. "I’m right behind you."

Storm walked back to her, putting her hands on Rogue’s delicate bare shoulders. She looked in her eyes and what she saw in there made her smile with pride. "You’ll be alright, child."

Rogue blinked and smiled back. "I will," she said and with a nod of her head pointed outside the window. "Not so sure about _him_ though."

The weather goddess laughed out loud and looked at her friend with a conspiratorial look. "Let _him_ worry about that…and the Professor. This was _his_ idea after all," she said, and winked at Rogue before she left the room.

Rogue watched amused Storm depart, before she turned her attention again at the black car that was now heading to the garage. She remained sullen for a while, collecting herself, preparing for the meeting that would take place in a while. This day had been extremely emotional, but feelings were not something she could afford with the upcoming "reunion".

Still, she couldn’t stop a smirk of excitement slipping out. As wary as she was about _him_ coming back, she couldn’t help but feeling intrigued by the challenge lying ahead. Four years were not usually considered a long time, but they were enough for her to fit in experiences and memories that others would need two lives to go through as much. She frowned. _Had he changed at all?_

Finally, she turned around, took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Whoever he was now didn’t matter. None of this mattered anymore. It was time to leave this behind her as well. For good.

"Here we go," she whispered and walked out of the office with long, confident strides.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Rogue and Logan finally meet


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War in the War Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rogue reveals more of herself, and Logan struggles to accept what is lost, and find what is left

The War Room was one of the few places in the X Mansion that every adult mutant had been to at least once – whether they were actively participating on missions or not.

Missions that were followed by new missions, strategy planning and new tactics, as well as operations – both routine and highly classified – were a large part of everyday life for the past two years.

Usually the War Room was filled with team members and their leaders going through the most recent information about experiment labs that seemed to multiply as time went by; about the new methods the humans were coming up with to reduce the numbers of the mutant population, or even bring it to the edge of extinction – like the "sentinel program"; about the mutant slave trade where men, women and children were abducted to end up in trafficking, being used as lab rats or in the hands of humans who wanted to take out all of their perversion and hate on the "freaks".

Today, though, was not one of those days. Only a handful of people were sitting at the large conference table that now welcomed more than the X Men members.

Storm was sitting on the right side of it, having Rogue next to her. The weather witch had Kitty and Bobby placed on her left, while next to Rogue, Jubilee and Piotr were seated. Right across them, Callisto and John – or Pyro, as he insisted to be called – were waiting along with the X Men for the Professor and Magneto to join them. Rogue had a file placed in front of her with the final details and execution of a mission they all were about to go on in few hours. 

Unlike the seconds-in-command of the Brotherhood, Rogue and Storm seemed pretty relaxed and confident in their posture, though someone who would have heard their earlier conversation would not be fooled. Both women were filled with tension, but they were trained and experienced enough to not let it show. Kitty was sitting silent with her head lowered in a way that showed how uncomfortable she felt about the screaming silence. Bobby, Jubilee and Pete on the other hand had their arms crossed, glaring daggers towards Pyro who, like Callisto next to him, had a "come on" attitude written all over him, provoking the other three with an ironic glare and his constant play with his Zippo lighter. 

Rogue was not in the mood for such games, so she decided to step in. Usually she was patient and diplomatic – hardly a personality trait or something she enjoyed, but she had learned a long time ago that sometimes it was best to talk than punch things – or people – through…no matter how badly she wanted to.

"I understand that, until the Professor and Erik come, this is an awkward _and_ unpleasant situation for all of us; but would you mind _try_ to make this a little easier – for the rest of us at least?" she said in a calm, restrained tone without looking at anyone specifically.

Callisto shot Rogue a look that showed all the contempt and hostility she felt for her. "We don’t take orders from _you_; keep your barking for _your_ _troops_. And our leader’s name is _Magneto_," she spat.

Rogue stared at her with a look of indifference. In any other case, she would have let out a sigh, shaken her head and smiled condescendingly. This was one of the lamest efforts to be provoked she’d ever seen. After living in the Mansion for almost a year, Magneto’s puppets should’ve known better than expecting her to bite at such cheap bait. She knew better than that. But given this meeting’s significance, she wasn’t willing to waste time or attention on Callisto or John, so she decided to make her point straight out clear.

"These," Rogue said pointing with her head and eyes at the X Men surrounding her, "are my _teammates_; and my _family_," she emphasized, highlighting each word with a tone that gave no room for another provocation or insult.

"And my _request_ involved all five of you. Make no mistake Callisto; if I ever let out an order for you, you‘ll know it…and you _will_ follow it," Rogue continued in a low voice and Callisto, as well as Pyro, laid back in their seats looking less tough, while Bobby shifted uncomfortably, Jubilee gave a "that’s my girl" smirk and Pete relaxed his stance and nodded. Kitty looked like Bobby had turned her into an ice statue and Storm was obviously agreeing with Rogue, ready to have her back if necessary.

"As for your _boss_, I don’t need your lecturing about who he is or what’s his name. I know _all_ about him," she stressed by tapping her temple. "Things that you and the rest of your gang bangers will never know – including _all_ of his names, both real and aliases. And the next time you try to disrespect me or my friends, I’ll kick your ass into oblivion," Rogue finished.

Callisto’s face started to turn red while forming a sneer; Rogue smiled and a dangerous gleam made her eyes sparkle. "Come now, Callisto. Don’t do this to yourself. I don’t want to beat the hell out of the same person _twice_ in the extent of three days. It wouldn’t be right," she said with a condescending note, while tilting her head and lifting an eyebrow.

John decided he had enough and stepped in. "You sure talk a lot of shit about 'friendship' and 'respect' for someone who gave them both up to run and stand first in line when the 'cure' came out," he sneered.

At that, Storm’s eyes narrowed as her lips tightened, and suddenly the sky started to lose some of its brightness.

Rogue didn’t back down – didn’t even wince. She had heard that argument a thousand times before; and from people who actually mattered to her. Pyro’s effort to throw her off balance couldn’t hold a candle to the heartache she felt when she’d seen the people she thought as friends, ostracizing her, avoiding her even more than when she was "the girl with the poisonous skin".

Jubilee’s eyes became wider, and she along with Colossus began to say something, before Rogue stopped them with a hand placed on Jubilee’s shoulder, and a look towards Pete.

"And you sure talk a lot of shit for someone who’s still alive thanks to _me_. Not to mention the second chance you were given, after _I_ convinced the ones who kept you double locked in a high security mutant prison to let you walk," Rogue threw back.

Pyro flinched, remembering their encounter two years ago and everything that went down afterwards and stood up angrily, getting his lighter ready.

At this, Storm and everyone else also stood up, preparing to defend Rogue verbally or any other way, even though all of them knew that wasn’t necessary. Rogue remained in her seat, and Callisto wasn’t sure what to do.

After a tense moment, Rogue reached out and took Storm’s palm in her gloved one. Storm looked at her and saw her silent request to calm herself and everyone else down. Rogue hadn’t lied when she’d told her that she was in no need of saving anymore. The person she had become knew how to give her own battles and, usually, nothing pleased her more.

Storm nodded as she squeezed Rogue’s hand gently and signaled to the rest of the X Men with a wave of her own, to sit down. Jubilee didn’t seem so sure about that, Kitty was waiting to see how the rest would react and Bobby and Pete hesitated for a moment, before all four of them sat down again. Pyro remained standing and Rogue realized she needed to be more drastic; this had gone far enough already.

Slowly, but with an air of danger in her moves, Rogue stood up from her seat, glaring at John without ever leaving his eyes as she placed her hands on the table.

"You wanna go another round with me, _Flame Boy_?" Rogue asked in a threatening tone, letting her Southern accent slip. "Should I remind you what happened the last time you and I had a showdown?"

The whole room went dead silent. All of them knew that Rogue was the most dangerous when she was keeping her voice and movements calm and silent – like a wild animal going stealth before attack. The fact that her accent was obvious was not a good sign either. Rogue tended to use a more "neutral" accent the past few years – one that was more unnoticed than the distinct one she had when she first came to the school. The times she was most tired, or angry, were the ones she let it show, unable to control it; and right now she didn’t seem tired at all.

Pyro stood still, breathing heavily while gritting his teeth. He knew what Rogue was talking about. Last time they had fought – before his return to this goddamn place –, they were trying to kill each other…or at least _he_ was. The battle was over abruptly, when John realized that the Rogue before him was not the teenager who was terrified even of the idea of using her powers on someone. _This_ Rogue had no inhibitions to give a small power display that send him on the ground and his Zippo out of commission. The last thing he remembers was her hovering above him, taking out a glove slowly, almost reverently, as she began to kneel one leg to force a bare hand on his face. The pain was so piercing and sharp, he had passed out.

The next time he woke up was at the Mansion, Hank standing next to him, checking his vitals, as the Professor and Magneto were explaining the new situation to him. He’d been in a coma for three days.

While he was trying to put himself together and understand everything he was told, his eye had caught Rogue standing outside his room, watching him from the window, arms crossed and eyes impassive, almost unreadable. He would never know that her actions, as well as the way she chose to end the fight, haunted her as much as her "betrayal" haunted him.

Rogue took advantage of the few seconds Pyro was seething, making the fire of his lighter grow bigger while he was trying to figure what to do, and with a stretch of her arm and an unspoken order, his Zippo landed on her covered hand.

Everyone remained still, waiting to see how Rogue was planning to end this quarrel, when she closed the lighter in her palm and after a few moments of concentration she opened it again, tilting it slightly to release ostentatiously dozens of small metal spheres on the table.

John gaped and stared in shock at the tiny pellets that were once his favorite lighter. He then looked at Rogue, fury lacing his voice. 

"_What the FUCK?_" he yelled as he tried to collect the small balls to his hands.

But Rogue wasn’t over yet. "Well, you know me _Johnny boy_," she said sassily, and in the sound of that nickname Pyro shot his eyes up to her again. "If you can’t do something right," she said as she lifted her hand like she was holding an invisible tray, and suddenly a small flame was dancing on it, "don’t do it _at all._"

And with that, she closed her palm, killing the fire she had created. When she opened it smoke was coming out of her fingers, and with another tilt of her hand she quickly summoned the spheres back inside her handful. The next time she opened it, Pyro’s shark Zippo lighter was back.

Rogue tossed it at him and raised both eyebrows as she was pointing her index finger towards him. "Next time, I won’t be so kind," she clarified and with that, she sat down again.

Quiet was laid out once more, though the tension was even more deafening than before. After few more minutes had passed, Kitty broke the silence.

"Why are they taking so long? You think something’s wrong?" she asked Storm.

"Be patient Kitty," Ororo advised. “Logan has been gone for too long. Perhaps some things are harder to be explained to him."

"Fine, but why does he have to be in this meeting?" Bobby jumped in. "He’s been gone for almost four years, shouldn’t the Professor wait for a couple of days before he asks him to join the team again? How do we know we can even trust him?"

"We don’t," Storm answered. "But the Professor made this decision and we are going with it. Besides, even though he’s been absent for too long, Logan is still a friend, Bobby. He’s the man who saved us all in the Alcatraz battle – who probably even saved the _world_ that day, paying a much bigger price than the rest of us. We owe him to at least welcome him as one of us – regardless whether he makes the decision to join us again, or not." With that, Storm fleetingly glanced at Rogue, who kept looking in front of her.

"And you agreed with that?" Bobby continued, his question aiming at Rogue this time.

Rogue sighed, as she crossed her legs and arms and leaned back to her chair, trying to look like the fact that she was left out of this decision didn’t bother her. "It doesn’t matter. I have no say in this; just like the rest of you," she said, looking at everyone.

"Are you kidding me?" Bobby kept pushing. "You’re literally the Professor’s right hand! Ever since you came back he’s been counting on you more than any other when it comes to missions and recruitment."

Rogue started to feel more and more annoyed by Bobby’s persistence, and Jubilee exchanged a worried look with Storm. Neither of them liked where this was heading.

"First of all, I’m not the Professor’s 'right hand'," Rogue clarified. "That title belongs to Storm; and sometimes to Erik as well – depending on the matter the Professor is dealing with."

"Ok, fine. You’re not his right hand, but you’re definitely his _left_. He told you nothing about this?" Bobby said, not backing down.

Rogue’s jawline tightened and made a final effort to keep her composure.

"I might be his 'left hand'," Rogue said through gritted teeth, "but as you all know the Professor is _right handed_. And I believe everyone in this room is aware that people tend to use their strong hand more often than the other. Apparently, _this_ was one of those times," Rogue finished, not leaving room for more argument – something that Bobby couldn’t quite get.

He was about to keep pestering her, when Jubilee cut him off. "Hey! Ice Cream! Get off my girl’s back will ya? She’s going through enough shit as it is. And we have a mission in a coupla hours remember? Now melt back on your seat and keep your igloo shut before I spark your snowflakes!" she exclaimed with a glare.

Storm stifled a laugh as Pete let out a loud one. Rogue, grateful for her friend’s interference, gave a tired smile to Jubilee. She always loved her street attitude and spank. Jubilee might seemed superficial and abrasive – among other things –, but Rogue knew better than anyone how much deeper Jubes’ essence and spirit went.

Bobby raised his hands in surrender and huffed out a "whatever", but wised up enough to keep his thoughts to himself. Kitty reached out and caressed his arm as Storm spoke once more.

"We’ll wait few more minutes, and then I’ll call the Professor to see what has been stalling them," she stated.

"That won’t be necessary." Rogue turned her head slightly towards the door, looking like she was hearing something. "They’re coming," she said and stood up straight, putting her hands behind her back, her heart skipping for a second.

The door opened and everyone followed her lead and stood up as well. The Professor was the first one to enter, followed by Magneto; right behind him was Logan, who stopped at the entrance, as if he wasn’t sure he should be there.

"Logan, please come inside," Charles said as he moved at the top of the table with Erik sitting right next to him.

Logan stepped in and while he was shutting the door behind him, he scanned the room cautiously. Storm was the first person he’d seen after he got to the Mansion and her presence was helping soothe his tension a bit. She smiled brightly at him, a friendly reminder that she was happy to see him again. Pete and Kitty also gave him a welcome nod as they let out a reserved smile themselves. Jubilee muttered a “hey Wolvie” in an apathetic tone and Bobby just kept staring at him, silent.

John, having his hands in his pockets and an "I don’t give two shits" attitude, just gave him a raised eyebrow, and Callisto a once-over that slowly turned to suspicion.

Logan’s attention settled on Rogue, and the world stopped spinning; his eyes widened in surprise, his mouth slightly open.

While he was in the Professor’s office listening to everything he needed to know about the newly established situation between the X Men and the Brotherhood, he’d tried to learn more about Rogue and her whereabouts – without letting his curiosity be too obvious; the only thing he had received was vague answers and equivocations.

As the three men were heading to the War Room after ending their conversation, Logan could smell Rogue’s presence, the scent becoming stronger as they were getting closer. He had inhaled deeply, his nostrils tantalized by her scent – rich and familiar as ever, one of the very few he felt so fond of. Only this time it was a bit different – stronger, with a hint of something he just couldn’t put his finger on. He never forgot a scent, and the change he felt in hers made his heart beat a little faster and his instincts whisper a little louder; _something’s off_.

And now she was right in front of him, standing across the room, looking…_fuck_; so many words swirled in his mind about the way she looked, she _was_, and still he couldn’t find one to make justice to the woman before him.

A few more seconds went by. After years of zero contact, they were finally so very close; and yet she didn’t make a move. Didn’t give away a reaction, let out a word, do something – _anything_ – that would make her acknowledge his presence. 

The smile that had began to form on his lips when he first saw her died instantly. Rogue was just standing there, with an immaculate indifference on her face and posture – her eyes focusing on the Professor, not _once_ straying to look at him.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected when they’d first see each other again after all this time; a hug – like the ones she used to give him, accompanied by a luminous smile, everytime he came back? A nod? A typical "welcome back"?

Whatever he expected, he certainly didn’t see that icy, almost disdainful attitude coming. He stood there, stone still, until the Professor’s voice brought him back.

"Logan, if you could please take a seat," Charles told him and showed with his hand one of the seats. Logan cleared his throat and after a final look at Rogue, he went to sit at the end of the table, far away from everyone.

After throwing himself on a chair, his eyes returned to her, scanning the changes that had altered her appearance the past few years.

She was taller now, and not because of the heels she was standing on. Her body was laced with curves and muscles molded from battles and tough fights; Logan had plenty of experience in both to know the way they marked one’s physique. The loose shirt she was wearing couldn’t hide the luscious sight of her full round breasts and the effort her long auburn hair was making to cover them as they fell freely on them, was pointless. His eyes strayed to her face; even though it was protected from her white streaks, it seemed to have more angles now, the lines of her cheekbones, nose and lips looking stronger, edgier somehow.

Her whole posture was holding a confidence and an authority he’d never seen on her before. The young girl he’d met on a snowy road nearly six years ago had turned into a woman who seemed to be able to command respect and awe just by her presence. His focus turned towards her eyes and what he saw in them made his world tumble once more.

Even with the loss of memories, Logan was a man who had seen enough of what this world held – both good and bad; if he added his nightmares and sporadic flashbacks he was getting more and more often the past couple of years, he could definitely say he’d seen a lot of life. What he’d never imagine, was Rogue holding the same knowledge he did.

Miles of hard walked road, pain, loss, sacrifices – a blend of roughly gained experiences were residing in those brown eyes that now seemed to hold the secrets of this world. Too much knowledge…too much wisdom in such young eyes. It couldn’t be just hers; had she absorbed others? Or was she "injected" with it? The telltale signs of military training and expertise were there. Was it forced on her or had she made the choice freely? The girl he remembered didn’t seem too willing to go down that road. Or was she? Was this girl – no, _woman_ – in front of him the real Rogue or was the one he once knew? Did he ever know her _at all_?

Logan’s stare was so piercing while he was struggling with these thoughts that Rogue started to become too aware of his presence. Tensity began to rise within her, and she pushed herself to remain passive. Her hands behind her back clenched painfully.

The Professor, being bombarded by Logan’s excessive projection and Rogue’s irritation ever since they came into the War Room, decided it was best to start the briefing immediately.

"Before we begin, I would like to apologize for the delay. I’m afraid some issues were too significant to be brushed aside for the sake of punctuality."

"Don’t worry Professor, we are all aware of the situation and truthfully, you were not that late," Storm intervened as everyone was sitting down again.

Charles nodded with gratitude. "Thank you Storm. Now, you have all been informed about Logan’s return…"

At that Erik shot a knowing look at Rogue that took it without giving any sign of how she was going to deal with it.

"…what I would also like to inform you is that of this day, Logan is also reclaiming his place as a member of the X Men in both missions and the school’s proper function."

At that, the Professor paused waiting to see the reactions that might come out.

"Are you sure about that?" Callisto was the first to object. "I mean, yeah you knew the guy a long time ago and he was part of your team, but he’s been gone forever and no one knows what the hell he’s been doing all this time. How can you trust him?"

Logan shot her a predatory look and tried to keep the growl that formed in his chest from escaping. He didn’t like the idea of the Brotherhood jerks staying in the Mansion and he certainly didn’t like that bitch. But, no matter how much it stung, he had to admit that their lack of trust wasn’t unjustified.

"I’m with Callisto on this one," John stepped in, addressing to Magneto. "Four years is a long time. Who says we can rely on him?"

"I could ask the same thing about you, Firefly," Logan grumbled. "’sides, I’m not the asshole who bailed on the people that took me in to join the enemy."

"No, you‘re the asshole that was on vacation while we got stuck with a fuckin’ mess we’ve been trying to fix for years now. Where the fuck you’ve been all this time, Superman?" John derided.

Logan snarled and leaned menacingly forward, his hands turning to fists, claws itching to come out as they became apparent under his skin.

"That’s enough!" Magneto called. "Wolverine, I would appreciate it if you kept your calm," he said with a hand raised towards him. "And Pyro! Put your lighter down; _now_," he ordered John who already had his Zippo open, ready for use.

"Tell your fucking lackey to watch his goddamn mouth, or I’m gonna slice his tongue off," Logan hissed.

"You are right. My apologies. Please," Magneto soothed, giving Logan a nod, asking him wordlessly to step down. After a moment, Logan loosened his snit a notch and sat back, breathing heavily. With a glare from Erik, John did the same.

"I will not tolerate such behavior or language here or anywhere in this Mansion!" the Professor exclaimed. "Erik and I are in accord in this. I understand that it is hard for some of you to accept this new order of things, but this is how they are and you _will_ adjust to them, or see your way out of this place," Charles made clear, giving time for his statement to sink in.

"As for your incredulity Pyro," he carried on, "it’s unfounded. I understand Callisto’s second thoughts, since she’s the only one that has not been familiar with Logan, but the rest of you have been associated with him in the past; for lesser or longer time. He is still the same man we used to know, the same man who honored what the X Men stood – and still stand – for."

"I don’t mean to sound like I agree with Callisto or _Pyro_," Bobby said giving a dirty look at John, who threw it back at him right away, "but…they do have a point. Logan’s been gone for years. Things have changed. We operate in different ways now, ways that have almost no resemblance with our past methods. Isn’t it too soon for him to join in?"

At that, Logan raised an eyebrow, giving Icekid the same "fuck off" treatment he was giving his former buddy at the other side of the table.

"Logan might be absent for long, but we must not forget his former experience. He does not join the team as a novice; he _is_ a senior team member, and a sufficiently knowledgeable fighter. I’m certain that he will adjust quickly enough," the Professor reassured him.

"His past experience and connection with the X Men doesn’t mean he’s still someone we can depend on," Bobby pressured. "He was never interested in keeping the minimum of contact with us and we have no idea about his background for the past four years. Who says he’s still reliable? What makes you think we-"

"Iceman!" Rogue’s voice cut him off and Logan flinched, turning his attention to her, his eyes wild but focused.

Everyone stopped and waited for her verdict.

She looked at Bobby calmly, as everything that had been conveyed hadn’t touched her at all.

"Cool it down a bit will ya? Like Storm said before this meeting began, obviously the Professor and Erik discussed this thoroughly and came to an agreement. It will just have to do; _for_ _now_."

With this, she stared at the Professor, making him realize she wasn’t going to let him walk easily out of this. But for the moment, she had her full support.

Charles thanked her with a small bow of his head and she blinked once in understanding.

Logan kept staring at her, trying to will her to look at him – even for a second – in vain; she was determined to pretend he wasn’t even in the room. And that irked him more than Icedick’s and Fireshit’s bullshit attitude together.

"Now; how about we discuss the details of the mission? Just in case there’s something we left out?" she said grabbing the file in front of her.

The Professor looked at Rogue skeptically. "Before we go to the mission, are you all certain there is nothing more you would like to discuss about Logan’s presence here?"

"Like what?" Rogue asked, her irritation starting to make itself more obvious.

"Rogue, I understand that you want to go through the mission one last time; but I don’t think this mistrust that has been created by having a former member among us again is going to help the mentality of some of the people who are participating in this operation."

"Perhaps you should have thought of that _before_ you and Erik decided it was wise enough to bring Wolverine in here without consulting any of us, Professor," Rogue pointed out abruptly.

Charles and Erik both paused at the tone of her voice, but neither said anything. They had figured it’d be easier to treat the whole situation as a patch that needed to be pulled abruptly in order to cause as less pain as possible; they were wrong.

At the sound of his codename, Logan felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on him. Rogue had never called him that – not even when they’d first met and that was the only name she thought he came with. Hearing this name from her lips…felt like a kick in the gut.

"Besides, wasn’t the main reason of this meeting tonight’s operation? The one that begins in _few hours_?" Rogue insisted.

"Why, yes Rogue, I just figured that since everyone’s been debriefed and prepared-"

"That we could also combine it with a 'welcome home' party? I’m sorry Professor; had I known it was a celebration we’d be having, I would have brought _balloons_ instead of the mission file. But unfortunately, I was not informed; for any of it," Rogue finished showing her frustration in all its magnitude.

The Professor sat back in his chair tensed, as Erik and Storm glanced at each other with a knowing expression; Kitty looked like she wanted to phase through the floor; Jubilee was nodding pompously in agreement with Rogue, and Bobby had a satisfied smirk on his face. Pete was looking everywhere but the others and Callisto and John seemed like they were starting to get bored.

Logan was sitting there, dumbstruck from the previous cold shower Rogue had given him. He was at a loss of words, not sure if he _should_ say anything. He was just staring at her, a look of shock on his face as he was realizing what Ice had said a few moments earlier; everything had changed. And so had she.

Logan began to say something to her. "Look...I didn’t-"

"Anyway," she cut him off, not leaving room for argument. "As you’ve already noticed Professor, we’re all _thrilled_ with Wolverine’s return. Now…can we focus on the mission? _Please_?" Rogue asked, but from the way she did, it was pretty clear this was not a plea.

"I agree," Pete interfered, trying to diffuse the situation. "Let’s focus on the mission. Make sure nothing will go wrong."

Charles nodded in defeat. Rogue was right; he and Erik were at fault. They had rushed to bring Logan back and pushed in a very inappropriate moment for his inclusion to the newly formed teams, hoping that this would be a better way than a slower, more time consuming process. And while he was at it, he had also hurt Rogue’s trust and respect to him by avoiding making this matter clear to her directly.

"Yes, of course. You are right Rogue; my apologies. Missions _do_ come first – especially in the War Room. Please, go ahead."

For the next 30 minutes, Rogue and Storm where explaining for the last time the way the extraction would take place. Logan was just watching, absorbing Rogue’s words, moves, her whole behavior. He’d never thought the day would come that he’d see her taking charge, leading missions, demanding the respect and obedience of her teammates. She looked like she’d done this a hundred times; she was sure of herself, frugal and effective, and Logan felt a swell of pride and admiration rising, one that started to become evident on his face.

"So," Rogue concluded, "to summarize; Colossus and I infiltrate and take down the security system, guards and anything else that comes our way. We’re also responsible for collecting files, security tapes, vials and anything we consider will provide us valuable information about other facilities and mutants that might be kept there; Shadowcat will also be with us to make sure no surprises come to our way – technologically speaking. After she confirms that all systems are down, she and Callisto will extract our main target and the other prisoners, five in sum. Iceman and Pyro will provide back up for the four of us, and Storm and Jubilee will keep the Blackbird hidden in a safe, nearby location, ready to take us away once we recover everything we need."

"Now remember; this is primarily an _extraction_ mission. Collecting data comes second. And last, but not least, our goal is simply getting out of there alive and in one piece. We do _not_ want to attract attention; do only what’s necessary to complete your part of the mission and leave as quickly as possible. I’ll make sure that the destruction of the facility will be registered as an 'accident' through the appropriate channels. Any questions?"

Everyone shook their heads, being through the plan already enough times to know exactly how to proceed. Storm and Rogue turned to the Professor, waiting for any last instructions.

"Since everyone is ready, I suggest you go and prepare yourselves. I know this is considered a 'routine mission' with a low risk rate, but it should still be treated with the equivalent importance. Good luck to all of you and I will see you after you return," the Professor smiled, signaling the end of the meeting.

Everyone stood up and started to leave; Rogue exchanged a nod with Storm and a wink with Jubilee. She suddenly saw her glaring at someone behind her and gave Rogue a "watch out" look before she left, as she heard heavy footsteps coming towards her, followed by a cautious "hey, kid".

She paused for a moment, bracing herself, and then kept collecting everything the file included as if she had heard nothing.

"Rogue," Logan said, now standing right next to her and Rogue closed her eyes leaving a silent sigh; she wasn’t going to get away so easily after all.

She stood tall and turned around, the same impassive look she had everytime someone referred to him, covering her lovely face again. Logan hadn’t realized until that moment how much he longed to see the same glow in her eyes, the same beautiful smile she reserved only for him everytime he returned to the Mansion.

He gave her an awkward smile, his lips pressed as he was putting his thumbs in his pockets; a sign of how uneasy he felt – wary and uncertain what to say. He stood there silent for a moment, waiting for her to react somehow. Instead he got a stoic look. She wasn’t gonna make this easy for him, he could tell that much. He braced himself and took the leap;

"So…you missed me kid?" he said lifting an eyebrow in a playful way.

Rogue kept staring at him coldly, like he was an annoying stranger she was introduced to by force.

"Not really," she said in the same indifferent tone that sent a chill down his spine.

It wasn’t the first time there was an uncomfortable silence between them, nor was the first time he was feeling and acting gawky in front of her; but it was the first time he really didn’t know what to say or do. The young girl he once knew and was so close to, didn’t seem to be anywhere. Their long time connection – this strange, strong bond that ran deeply and shared only with her, also seemed buried under the dust of time and his decision to stay away from everything and everyone. Once, he had desperately wanted all connections severed; now, he began to realize the full extent of consequences this choice had brought on both of them.

"I have to go," Rogue said and turned to leave.

"Hey, hey, _wait_," Logan said and he went to grab her left wrist. At this, her hand turned and caught his without even looking, turning it and bending it to make his wrist look up, while her right hand dropped the file and hit, palm open, under his elbow, pushing and stretching his arm all the way to the shoulder, up. She added extra pressure to both his elbow and wrist, creating opposite forces to cause enough pain to immobilize him.

Logan was staring at her gaped. In any other case, he would have easily blocked the attack, but he never expected from Marie, Rogue – _whoever the fuck she was_ – to react like that. And not in a million years he expected she’d have enough strength to pull such move on him.

_What the actual fuck?_

Rogue gave him a warning look. "I don’t like being touched. Especially without my permission," she said calmly and released his hand as abruptly as she had grabbed it.

She picked up the file and began to leave again, when Logan went after her. "Rogue; just…hang on," he pleaded as he opened his pace to stand in front of her, blocking her exit.

"Look, I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have touched you like that. And I know you have to get ready for the mission, I just…"

At that he froze and didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Rogue kept staring at him, provoking him to say whatever it was he thought he had to say.

"I’m glad to see you kid. I really am. I missed ya; _a lot_. You…take care of yourself in that mission ok?" 

Rogue lifted both eyebrows sardonically.

"And, uhhh…

I’d like to see you after you come back. Have a talk; or a drink or something. It’s been a long time…I’m sure there’s a lot of catching up to do," he finished and gave her another careful smile.

Rogue smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She moved closer, almost a breath away from him and Logan felt his heartbeat fasten. Tension and deep buried feelings he’d never dared to check upon when she was still too young, started to make their way up to the surface in a forceful way he’d never experienced...until now.

"I’m _not_ a _kid_," Rogue said in almost a whisper, a steely tone coating every word. "And I’m not interested in sharing anything about my life. It’s not part of my duties to entertain the Professor’s _guests_. If you want to catch up on what’s been happening here, you‘re gonna have to speak with him; or Storm; or Hank. And if you need someone to keep you company while you’re here, you’re gonna have to find one who has the time _and_ the will to do it. I’m not here to be the 'hobby' that’ll keep you around nor I’m in the mood to try and make you feel better about yourself _Wolverine_. I gave up that dowdy role long time ago."

Rogue placed the back of her palm on his chest and pushed him lightly to the side with an "excuse me". Logan watched her exiting the door with sheer determination, unable to decide if he felt more disheartened or intrigued by the woman she had turned to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: The tension escalates


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghosts of past and present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When i began writing this story, i was planning for a 4 or 5 chapters fic. But after i started typing, some characters needed to have a say about everything that was happening as well. This chapter is an indicative of this. I enjoyed lending my keyboard to this particular character to speak up, and i hope you will too.

She raised the zipper slowly, all the way up, and made sure the fabric around her neck would be as comfortable and choke free as possible. She closed the glassy door of the chamber where her uniform was kept and saw her reflection staring back at her.

Some of her hair, the ones that included the white strands, was braided back down the middle and, along with the rest, were restricted by a ponytail that lay carefully on her back. The way her white locks surrounded her head made her seem like she was wearing a strange silver halo. She smiled bitterly at the irony.

She turned her attention to the uniform. Black bulletproof leather was coating her body from top to bottom. The dark green parts that were covering her chest, arms, side torso and outer thigh muscles were indirectly giving away the extra protection to the body parts that were likely going to get attacked the most. Short gloves that encircled the wrists were chosen for the sole purpose of convenience. The easier she could take them off to use her skin, the better. Military boots that hugged her legs and stopped right beneath her knees completed her image as an X Man.

She gave a solemn stare at the dark green X that marked and protected her sternum from possible lethal hits; tilted her neck slightly to present the small Xs that were marking the sides where her suit ended. The same letter was also tattooed at the edge of the sleeves.

There was a time she had worn the X suit – a different suit that still represented what this one did – with pride and joy. The first time it was given to her, a thrill had shot through her; she wasn’t on the team yet – in fact she was just beginning her training to earn her place in it. But the moment she wore the black leather, infinite possibilities were presented to her. She would fight for what was good and right; protect the ones who couldn’t do it for themselves; defend the Professor’s cause to make the world a place where mutants and humans would finally be able to coexist; battle against injustice, proving the people – and her parents – who treated her like a monster that she was better than that. _Make a difference_. Her mutation wouldn’t be a curse anymore – or at least it wouldn’t be _just_ that. It would also be a _gift_, one she was eager to put to good use for the sake of others.

She had allowed herself to bask in these foolish dreams for too long. The countdown for everything that followed had already begun, but she was too willing to keep living in denial. Things _had_ to get better; it was the only way. She let out a snort at this.

She brought her thoughts back to the present. She held no expectations now; no wishful thinking. She’d seen enough to know that they were fighting a war that would never end. There would be long pauses of peace and truce between the excruciating battles for dominance, only for someone to come eventually and continue this vicious circle; human or mutant – it didn’t matter. There would always be a battlefield made of hate and fear for everything that was _too_ different to be accepted nonchalantly as merely "unique".

They had lied. Both sides had lied. All of her life, all she was hearing was stuff like, "be yourself"; "don’t change for anyone"; "don’t be afraid to walk a different path, as long as it is _your_ path".

What everyone conveniently forgot to mention was that you’re allowed to be different as far as people’s acceptance could take it. Be different, but don’t stand out; walk your path, as long as it takes you where everyone else goes; be yourself as long as it doesn’t bother or offend others’ existence. An illusion of tolerance so perfectly set, that very few could see beyond it.

She kept fighting though; she remained loyal to the Professor’s cause – she would always be – and she was more than willing to make sacrifices to win this war. She couldn’t go back. She’d seen too much, _survived_ too much to pretend she could just leave everything behind and live a peaceful life, acting like nothing had happened.

There was no optimism to keep her going anymore though; neither thrill, nor excitement everytime she was suiting up. Only a rush, a wave of adrenaline riding her blood and a sheer, vivid emotion that seemed too much like euphoria for what she knew was about to come. She wasn’t sure she liked it, but she allowed herself to embrace it, as well as everything and anything that helped her pull through before, during and after a fight.

She blinked and shook her head slightly, bringing herself back once more. She was finding it too hard to concentrate tonight. Not too surprising, given the fact that one of the most fearful ghosts of her past – probably the most fearful one – had made his appearance today. He’d walked inside the war room, bringing with him a flood of memories and emotions she wasn’t ready to cope with, wasn’t ready to face; and that was something she would never allow herself to admit.

She glanced at the long, black cape with the hood and the silver details that were left behind. She thought about it for a minute; this was a routine mission, a _team_ work. No shady events were taking place this time. No “message” was to be delivered. No reason for her to cover and remain unidentified.

"Not tonight," Rogue whispered and turned around.

Few steps further and she stopped, standing still once again. Carefully, she turned her head to the end of the corridor. A uniform in another chamber, one that had nothing to do with the X Men and everything they represented and fought for, was calling for her to come closer.

She walked slowly towards the place the _other_ suit was solely kept away from the rest on her insistence, and stood right in front of it.

A green suit – the color so dark, it could easily be mistaken for black; a pair of gloves and knee high boots of the same color were standing on its right and left respectively. Behind the uniform a long, dark green, hooded cloak completed the set.

Rogue kept looking at it in awe, recalling the name that came along with this uniform; _The Reaper_._ The Touch of Death_.

Once the name was called, the actions and reputation that have been bestowed on it flooded her mind as well.

There have been times when the Professor’s morals and values weren’t good or effective enough to turn the situation to their favor, and the X Men couldn’t cross the line without betraying their ideals. Times where extreme measures had to be taken, with no one willing to stray and do what needed to be done.

That’s when the Reaper had stepped in. Rogue was already carrying enough regrets for things she had done; what was some more guilt on top of it – especially if lives were going to be spared and saved from a fate like the one she and many others like her were given?

It wouldn’t be the first time she was offering her skill set and services to the Professor and the cause – nor the last. It wasn’t too long ago when she’d been called back for another "job", where the title that followed the green uniform had to protect her life, as well as the ones she cared about; a title she had rightfully earned by spreading death and fear among her enemies and targets.

She wasn’t taking many missions of that kind lately, unless it benefited their fight somehow. She preferred it that way…

Of all the missions and tasks she was chosen for over the past couple of years from various employers and organizations – before she joined the X Men again as an official and prominent member – Charles Xavier’s vision was certainly the best reason she was willing to go that far; the only time the burden she carried within seemed to be more bearable…and rightful.

She swallowed hard and tried to keep her composure. She knew it wasn’t over. Eventually she would put that suit on again. She only hoped that, whatever reason would call for such resort would be worth it.

It seemed to have a life of its own everytime she wore it. This suit had the ability to unveil her darkest places; a side that once was enshrouded from the brightness of her ignorance and naivety.

But now…now it was waiting patiently, quietly in a corner of her mind for a chance to crawl from the shadows and stir the controlled chaos that dwelled within her head. A side that once was out, urged her to do things – horrible things – she had no idea she was capable of. Sometimes, she was trying to console herself, thinking the people who had suffered the effects of her powers and blackness deserved it. But most times, during her weakest moments, when hate and anger took over, she caught herself feeling content for the pain and death she had inflicted; even satisfied. And that terrified her.

Rogue closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling her chest struggling to fill with as much air as possible. _Not now. You can’t think of this now. Focus on the mission. There will be plenty of time to deal with the never ending remorse later. Just remember why you’re doing this. Why you decided to do it in the first place._

_Jimmy._

At this, her eyes opened widely and a gasp escaped her mouth. The dam she always made sure was sturdy enough to contain thoughts and memories that plagued her and kept her from functioning, seemed to be undermined by the twisted games her mind had a knack to play; she realized that she had pushed herself in a mental corner too late and now she had to fight to slip out of it.

_Rogue…it’s ok; it’s not your fault. Not your fault. It’s better off this way._

"No," Rogue shut her eyes tightly and clenched her fists, struggling to push his voice down. "You’re not real. I never absorbed you. This isn’t real."

_Maybe you didn’t suck him dry, but you did that to _me_ you sadistic bitch! _

Rogue let out a shocked cry, as she began to realize the damage the flow of qualm she had allowed to exude was doing.

_Let me out! _

"No," she cruelly whispered, her face twisting in hate.

_Let me the fuck outta here! You can’t keep me locked up forever!_

"Wanna bet?" she hissed and pushed the bastard’s psyche back to the place she held him isolated. A selectable punishment Rogue had chosen to give him for everything he had done.

_Well done my dear. Compassion cannot be a choice for such men._

"Stay out of this Erik! I don’t need you or anyone else to tell me how to run the world in my head," Rogue attacked.

_Please! Please let me go! I can’t stay here! Don’t keep me in here, I beg you!_

Tremor began to overflow her body and a drop of sweat ran down her temple. She knew what this was; her conscience had an incredible way to show her it was still alive and aware of Rogue’s absolute refusal to forgive herself for everything she and her power had been forced to do.

"I’m sorry. I can’t. I had _no _choice," she stuttered.

_Please. My family; I have to find them; make sure they’re alright. I need to see them. I…_

"Shhhh. It’s alright. You’ll be alright. Everything will be fine. Sleep now," Rogue murmured like she was putting a frightened child to bed after it had woken by a bad dream; and then, there was silence.

She was breathing heavily now, thinking it was over; until the voice that was the last one she wanted to hear whispered soothingly to her;

_You alright, kid?_

Rogue pressed her lips together. "Go away."

_Kid, come on. I’m on your side remember?_

At this, she snorted and shook her head. "Who asked you to?"

_You don’t have to ask. You never had to ask. I was always here for…_

"_Bullshit!_" Rogue yelled and suddenly the frustration she was feeling started to engorge. "You were never here! _Never_! Everytime you happened to 'pass by' was always out of obligation; or a pleasant break between 'Gulliver’s travels', so you could sleep in a fancy place with clean sheets and decent meals! None of this was ever important to you; it was just another task! One to make you feel good about yourself, that would help ease your guilt for all the shit you carry. You think I don’t know what’s that like, huh?" she lashed out.

_Rogue, listen to me…_

"No, _you_ listen to me! This is _my_ head! _My_ fucked up mind! _Not_ yours. _I_’m in charge. _I_ set the rules and the rest of you follow them. _That’s_ how it is, _that’s_ how it goes! The days you and everyone else were roaming free and uncontrolled are _over_! _I_’m in control now!"

_You sure about that? _

Rogue was surprised by the interference and didn’t react quickly enough to contain the new voice that had slipped past her defenses.

_Kid, let me help you. I can keep them…_

"Go away!" she yelled. "_I_’ll save myself this time," she stated, determination lacing her voice, and suddenly her anger was much stronger that every fear and guilt she had ever felt.

And that was her mistake. The Professor had warned her about the way her emotional and psychological state was affecting her powers. Suddenly, the mental damn that kept her feelings in check collapsed and uproar of voices poured out;

_ _Nohelpmeletmeoutbitchyoutookmylifenooodon’thurtmeletmegoibegyoudont’touchmefuckinmutiewhoreyoustolemylifeyou’llpayforthiswhyi’llfuckingkillyouyouletmegofuckincuntnotsotoughnowareyayou’reminei’llshowyouwhatpainisyoucan’trunthistime_ _

Rogue was holding her head with both hands, swaying it back and forth, her face contorted from pain and fear.

"I’m in charge; I’m in charge; I’m in charge," she kept chanting with clenched teeth.

But the voices were growing stronger; yelling, threatening, begging, laughing at her, challenging her…until she erupted.

"_ENOUGH!_" she screamed and the voices, as if they got terrified by her order and the possibility of severe punishment, retreated – hiding back to wherever they were kept. And then, they were no more.

Rogue let go of her head, panting in frenzy, trying to catch her breath while collecting her calm. She doubled-over and her hands landed on her knees, looking like she had sprinted a mile.

When she managed to stand straight again, her control was back as well as her breath. Beads of sweat were coating her forehead, but other than that she was back to herself. She slowly opened her eyes and the telltale glass that kept the green suit safe, gave away a figure right behind her.

She turned abruptly and saw Jubilee standing there frozen, staring at her, gaped. Her eyes were revealing her shock and terror, and Rogue could tell she’d been there long enough to know what had happened.

"Chica," she soughed. Rogue let out a quiet breath and icy crystals were released from her mouth. She looked at them surprised, and it was then she realized she was not in much control as she thought.

The metal walls and small seats in the room had been contorted in strange shapes and sizes. She glanced up and saw the lighting coming from the phosphor lamps swiftly changing from bright to dim like they were charged with more electricity that they could handle. Suddenly, she felt a bit unstable and looked down to see the ground shake lightly, small waves travelling underneath their feet.

_Shit_.

Rogue gave an apologetic look to Jubilee and took a step back to rest on the chamber. She closed her eyes for a moment and the ground became solid again, as the lighting was coming back to its usual illumination. She licked her lips and put a hand on her neck, feeling how dry her throat was.

Jubilee ran to her and grabbed her, a look of immense worry on her face.

"Rogue, are you alright?"

"Fine," she nodded reassuringly. "Just give me a moment, ok?"

"Sure. Let me get you some water," Jubilee muttered and looked around to find a place for Rogue to sit. Since everything was made of metal, that turned out to be extremely difficult.

"Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine," Rogue said in a soothing tone.

Jubilee nodded frantically. "Ok, ok. Be right back in a sec, chica. Don’t pass out on me alright?" and with that she ran out of the room.

Rogue slowly let herself slide all the way down to the floor. She stretched one leg and rested her hand on the bended knee of the other as she laid her head back to the chamber. She gave a second look at the distorted walls and seats, and closed her eyes again; with sheer determination she whispered once more, "_I_’m in charge".

Jubilee came back with the water a couple of minutes later. She halted and watched around her as a new wave of shock pierced through her.

Everything in the room was back in order. The walls were straight, the small metal seats in their usual shape, the lighting bright and the floor calm and steady.

"_Fuck_. _Me_. How…when…?" she asked, a look of disbelief on her face.

"Well, you know me Jubes. I break it, I fix it," Rogue tried to joke. "Besides, you‘ve seen me 'in action' before; and you were here when I left the lights and the floor alone, remember?"

"Wha…you think I noticed that? I was too busy peeing my thong man! You scared me shitless!" Jubilee said in a freaked out voice.

Rogue chuckled at that. "While I appreciate the image your description offers, do you mind?"

Jubilee looked at her puzzled.

Rogue nodded towards the paper cup she was holding. "The water, Jubes. Can I have it?"

"Oh, fuck! Yeah, sure chica. Here you go," Jubilee ran towards her and kneeled beside her, placing a hand tenderly behind Rogue’s head and the cup on her lips.

Rogue drank a few precious sips and felt the cool water bedew her mouth and throat.

"Bless you," she exhaled in relief.

"Feeling better, girl?" Jubilee asked, still worried after what she had witnessed.

Rogue took the cup from her, putting it down carefully, and then patted her hand fondly.

"Don’t worry, sugar. In a couple of minutes I’ll be good to go. See now, that’s why I always prepare an hour earlier when I’m about to go on a mission; and that’s why I keep insisting for you, and everyone else to do the same," she tried to tease.

Jubilee looked at her like she had grown a second head on her shoulders. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me? You’re not going on this mission, _not_ after what I saw in here."

Rogue gave her a stoic look and started to get up. "I’m not negotiating, Jubes."

"Neither am I!" Jubilee responded angrily, offering her help to Rogue.

"I can get up," she insisted, waving her hand to Jubilee. Seeing that her friend wasn’t convinced, Rogue decided to accept her help, though it wasn’t necessary. She was already good to go.

"Rogue, chica, seriously now, I think you should stay back and have a session with the Professor – or a talk with Hank at least!"

"No staying back, no session, no talks. They won’t tell me anything I don’t already know."

"Rogue, please," Jubilee was following Rogue while she was marching towards the elevator.

"Jubes," Rogue turned around and looked at her. "You really think I would jeopardize the mission? Or any of you? If I wasn’t sure I could do this, _believe_ me I wouldn’t need you or anyone else to encourage me to stay behind; I would’ve done it myself."

"_That’s_ what you think? That I worry about the stupid mission? Who gives a shit about Old Mags’ boy toy?" Jubilee exploded.

"It’s not just Magneto’s lackey, Jubes. There are also four more people in that facility..."

"And we’ll make sure they all come out safe and sound. Roguey, girl, it’s not the mission I care about; it’s _you_. Spare me the tough act will ya? The whole 'I’m the Rogue, I’m stronger than all of you bitches put together' attitude doesn’t work on me. You think I don’t see how much pressure you put yourself under? How hard you try for all of us? Or you think I don’t know this outburst you just had was because of Wolvie’s comeback?"

Rogue stared at her, resigned. There really was no point to try and hide from Jubilation Lee. For all the frivolous attitude she was displaying, she was far too empathic to not notice what was going on.

Rogue sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It’s not his fault. Not really. I just-"

"Got caught under a lotta strain. And the Professor’s lousy way to deal with the whole situation pissed you off – and not unfairly, I might add. What he did was crappy. And old man Erik didn’t help by sticking his nose in this either, and don’t get me started about the Three Stooges in the War Room!" Jubilee finished, anger rising within her on behalf of her best friend.

Rogue couldn’t stifle her laugh. "God, Jubilee is there anything that escapes your attention? _Ever_?"

"Yeah, the time you lost your sanity! Seriously chica, you should stay here. Talk with the Prof; find a way to settle this. As for Wolfman…just ignore the bitch. I mean, how long is he gonna stay here anyway? _A month_? Maybe two at most. Since we have no more spare redheads, and since I _seriously_ doubt he grew heavy enough _cojones_ to settle the old, unconfessed score between the two of you, I say we ignore him until he hightails again with his scut between his legs. Whaddya say?"

"I say we have a mission to go; _now_," Rogue insisted. "We can discuss this later."

"Don’t change the subject, chica."

Rogue realized that Jubilee was as determined as she was to have it her way. She let out a breath calmly and walked closer to her.

"Jubilee," Rogue said as she held her face with both hands. "You’re more than a friend to me. You’re my sister; in every way, except by blood. You were the only one who stood by my side after I’d taken the cure. Besides…"

Rogue lowered her head, trying to keep herself together. Jubilee placed her hands on hers and held them, compassion and sympathy for her friend’s trials written all over her face. After a moment, Rogue continued;

"You were there for me in all of my pivotal moments. The cure, Bobby…" she paused for a second. "Wolverine leaving, my departure from the Mansion, my return and _everything_ in between. You were always by my side, never judging, only supporting me in every way you could. I’m asking you to do the same now."

Jubilee tried to say something, but Rogue stopped her before she even began.

"You’re right; a lot of things happened at once while I was already under a lot of pressure. I _am_ angry at the Professor for not being honest with me; and what took place in the War room didn’t help either. As for Wolverine-"

"You still refuse to call him by his name huh?" Jubilee cut her.

Rogue continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. "It _is_ hard now that he’s back. But I’m not the fragile little girl I used to be. I’m not gonna break. And to be honest, what bothered me the most was the way everyone handled his return, than his actual presence here."

"Rogue; you haven’t spoken of him, haven’t even mentioned the man, ever since he left," Jubilee pushed on.

She nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. "Why should I speak or think of someone who didn’t care to do this for me?"

Jubilee was caught by surprise and shook her head in denial. "Oh Roguey; the guy might be a mighty asshole, but I don’t think he-"

"I’m fine," Rogue stated. "I mean it; I’m perfectly able to go on the mission. That…'incident' shook me a bit, but I put it under control almost immediately. _I_ control my mind Jubilation; it doesn’t control _me_ anymore. And if I 'slip' sometimes, I have the strength to come back and take over. But I give you my word to speak to the Professor and have a prolonged meditation _after_ we return. What do you say?" she offered.

Jubilee took her friend in a hug and squeezed her hard. She knew how important was for Rogue to look strong, to _be_ strong. It frightened her to think the extreme measures and risks she was taking just to feel that she was in control of herself and her powers. If there was something Jubes could do to make Rogue’s load feel lighter, her sense of loyalty wouldn’t keep her from doing it – even if she vertically disagreed with that. Rogue didn’t need an extra lecture about her powers, nor an advice that would go wasted, since it would fall on deaf ears. She needed support and encouragement during her most difficult times, and if that’s what she needed now, that’s what Jubilee was going to give her. The talk she had to have with her, about what – _whom_ – she was struggling to avoid, would have to wait.

"Ok, chica. You’re the boss. Just make sure you keep yourself safe, alright?"

Rogue smiled and held her friend tightly before letting her go. "Promise," she said in a sweet voice while crossing her heart, and then reached out a hand.

Jubilee looked at her and the two young women exchanged a wicked smirk. The petite Asian grabbed Rogue’s hand, holding it in a tight grip. "Let’s go kick some mutant-hatin’ ass."

"Now you’re talking," Rogue nodded in agreement and they both quickened their pace, heading straight to the hangar and the Blackbird.

………………………………………………………

Logan was pacing up and down impatiently, hands on hips, a frown on his face while keeping his stare down. He’d tossed his jacket on one of the couches in the Professor’s office and now he was sporting a blue shirt – the same one he was wearing when he was brought to the Mansion.

Hank was standing still, hands behind his back, looking outside the window as he always did everytime he felt uncomfortable, or was under tension. Erik was sitting on one of the chairs with his arms crossed, waiting patiently. The Professor was in the Cerebro, making sure his X Men, and the Brotherhood members, were doing alright.

The one who ultimately disturbed the silence was Magneto.

"Wolverine," he called and Logan – as well as Hank – turned to look at him. "If you could please calm down and have a sit. Your frustration is echoing around the room. And honestly, I don’t think Charles will appreciate the damage you’re about to cause to his expensive carpet with your continuous stomping."

"Like I give a shit about the damn rug," Logan growled.

"Your concern is unnecessary _and_ pointless," Magneto insisted. "The mutants this team consists of are exceptionally effective when it comes to battle. I assure you, it won’t be long before Charles comes in to inform us about their return with a successful outcome."

"Erik is correct, Logan," Hank stepped in. "In the past four years the political climate around mutant issues has risen the bar of efficacy in ways we hoped we would avoid. Fortunately, we learned to be prepared; the missions the X Men have been sent were extremely demanding, yet the challenges we faced, enriched us with experience that took our skills and powers to a much higher level. Have no worries my friend; they’re going to be alright," Hank said, giving Logan a knowing look, fully aware for whom in particular his anxiety was for.

"That doesn’t mean things can’t go wrong Blue," Logan said. "Maybe I haven’t been on a mission for years, but I remember how risky they can be. And unlike _Magneto_," he called the name sarcastically, "I don’t consider my people expendable."

"'Your people' have been managing on their own for a long, _long_ time Wolverine. They have faced situations and overcame obstacles you have _no_ idea about," Erik retaliated. "What makes you think you are necessary to them _now_?"

"If that’s true and there’s no reason for me to be here, then why the fuck did you and Charles drag me back here?" Logan hissed.

"Come now, my boy," Erik said with a laugh. "Don’t tell me you returned back to New York after all these years just for vacation. We both know you were heading back here. Besides, you can’t deny the necessity of Charles’ presence and mine at the airport when you saw he was still alive. You needed a most basic update about what you were going to witness once you returned to the Mansion. And it’s always a great advantage to have someone with your powers and war expertise on our side," he finished.

"Mission accomplished," Logan said, starting to lose his already limited patience. He approached Erik slowly. "You gave me a heads up about what’s being goin’ on around here. How about you give me some more?"

"On which matter?” Magneto asked.

Logan gritted his teeth. He wanted to ask Hank a million questions, most of them about Rogue, but he wouldn’t do it – not in front of Erik. Alliance or no alliance, his instincts told him he was not to be trusted, and that was a feeling Logan couldn’t shake off.

Finally, he decided he had no other choice but to take the indirect way; _again_.

"I’ve noticed some changes among the ranks. Let’s start there."

Hank intervened again. "In the time of your absence and Charles’ and Scott’s…loss," he said in a gloomy tone, "Ororo had stepped in to take charge of the school-"

"Yeah, I remember," Logan cut in. "You were back at the White House, Storm was the new head mistress and Bobby, along with Kitty, was there to help her wherever they could. I know all that. That was before I left. What I don’t get is why…how…?"

Logan was struggling. He just couldn’t find the right words to put it out.

"You’re wondering how Rogue has gone as far as leading the X Men alongside Storm…aren’t you?" Magneto completed his sentence.

Logan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Fine; If Buckethead wanted to go through the straight line, the better. No more fuckin’ wasted time. Diplomacy wasn’t his niche anyway.

He asked only one question:

"How?"

Erik gave a look at Hank, and he tried to be as honest as possible without betraying Rogue’s trust.

"Logan," the blue feral began tentatively, "Rogue’s past is hers and hers alone. If you want to know what happened to her…what she’s been doing all these years, you’re going to have to ask _her_. I have no right – _no one_ has the right – to give away personal information about her, so please do not ask me, or anyone else, anymore about her life and whereabouts." With that, Hank gave a pointed look at Erik who arched an eyebrow at him.

The silent communication didn’t slip Logan’s attention, but right now it didn’t matter. He decided to take this conversation to safer ground.

"Look doc, if you can’t talk about it, fine; I won’t push you – though I seriously doubt she’s gonna tell me anything, even if I asked her-"

"That is absolutely true," Erik stepped in.

Logan gave him a death glare to shut him up. "At least tell me how the hell she came from taking the cure to becoming a team leader. Come on, Hank; the Rogue I knew didn’t seem eager to rise in X Men’s hierarchy, or use her powers in a lethal way. The person I saw in the War Room was acting like a goddamn war machine-"

"That’s because, she _is_," Magneto interfered. "The person you saw in the War Room is the one she was destined to be all along, Wolverine. A powerful mutant that uses her powers against our enemies for the greater good of our kind; a force to be reckoned with," Erik concluded with a trace of pride that made Logan furious.

He was now hovering threateningly above Magneto, his fists clenched on his sides, his eyes narrow. "Since when did you become a fan of hers? Four years ago you snatched her and forced her into your fuckin’ machine because you didn’t have the _balls_ to do it yourself – and all this for your fucked up 'cause'! She was just a kid, you asshole. And you almost _killed_ her!" Logan yelled through clenched teeth. "And now you’re suddenly cheerleading her on? And I’m supposed to buy this?"

Erik looked sternly at him and rose slowly to stand and face him. "I do not care if you believe me or not; your trust and respect was never something I wanted – nor needed – from you…_Wolverine_," he emphasized.

"As for her sacrifice on the Statue of Liberty…it was never my intention to make the child suffer. She just happened to be a necessary means to an end that would redeem our kind from human threat once and for all; my motive was never personal, nor did I ever want to treat her with malice. But sacrifices need to be made if we want to win this war."

Logan was outraged. He never thought Magneto would regret his actions – nor he expected him too. But to listen to him admitting so bluntly his intention to waste people’s lives to have his victory, was making him sick.

"_Sacrifices_?" Logan whispered furiously, and suddenly he grabbed Erik from his shirt. "Wasn’t enough you tried to sacrifice her once, you piece of shit – now you want to sacrifice her _again_?"

"Logan!" Hank called from behind and grabbed his arms. "That’s enough! Please, let him go."

"I advise you to listen to Dr. McCoy my dear boy," Magneto said in a low menacing voice. "Do not forget what my powers can _do_."

Logan brought him a hairbreadth away from his face, and then let him go as abruptly as he had grabbed him, breathing heavily. He turned his back on him, pacing around like a caged animal.

"Besides," Erik continued, "who said I have to _force_ her to make any sacrifices? She’s more than willing to make them _herself_."

At that Logan stopped and looked at him. His claws slowly slipped out an inch and Hank placed his strong furred hand on his shoulder.

"Erik, please; that’s enough," Hank scolded him and Magneto went back to his seat.

"And Logan," Hank continued, "what Erik says is true. No one is forcing Rogue to do anything she doesn’t want to. Firstly, because _we_ would _never_ allow such thing; and secondly…" at this Hank seemed to be wavering. In the end, he decided it was something he could, and had, to reveal. "Secondly, because even if Erik – or someone else – wanted to force her to do something against her will…it would be impossible. Her power has grown in ways we had never imagined; it has reached such immense heights, that she has truly become…_untouchable_."

Logan was staring at him, unable to process what he’d just heard. "What the hell are you talking about?" he muttered.

Before Hank had the time to explain, the Professor’s wheelchair gave away his arrival. Erik went to open the door and Charles entered with a look of content on his face.

"The mission has just been completed; successfully, I might add. The mutant prisoners have been extracted alive; all the team members are well, with the exception of light injuries, though I’m afraid you’re going to have to prepare yourself and the lab Hank. Three of the former captives are in a much worse condition. Storm and Rogue both suggested you have three stretchers waiting in the hangar to take them immediately once the Blackbird lands."

"Yes, of course," Hank responded. "I’m off to it right away," he said and left the office hurriedly.

The Professor turned to Logan and Erik. One look at them, and he could tell there had been a brief, but intense conflict between the two men, not too long before he came in.

"Erik, Logan; how about we all head to the hangar as well? I’m afraid our presence there might be necessary for both the team members and the injured ones."

"Of course Charles." Erik started towards the door before pausing for a moment. "Is Arclight one of the injured ones?"

"I’m afraid so," the Professor nodded.

"I see," Erik said skeptically. "Thank you Charles; I appreciate your help and briefing," he said and left the office. The Professor turned to Logan, and he looked the seemingly older man warily.

"You sure everyone’s alright?"

Charles smiled reassuringly. "She’ll be alright. Don’t worry Logan; she’s _strong_. She always knows how to find her way back; to herself and us." And with that, he directed his chair to the exit.

"Are you coming?" he asked without looking behind.

Logan left a quiet sigh of relief and discreet joy, and followed the Professor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Logan finds out more about Rogue, her past and his choices' aftermath.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bushi no nasake
> 
> "The tenderness of the Warrior"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan's second attempt to talk with Rogue leads her to drop her mask

Everything was exactly like he remembered. The hangar waiting for the Blackbird to land in its safety, the tension filling the entire place everytime the X Men were returning from a mission, the release from it when it was verified that everyone was alive and well, minus a couple of scathes here and there. He could literally smell the memories enveloping him.

The Professor was right next to him, with Erik standing a bit farther back. Hank was there too, along with six paramedics and the three stretchers that were asked, waiting for the injured ones.

He heard it before it had even approached enough to be seen; Logan offhandedly lifted his head, listening to the roar of the jet’s engine bringing everyone home…bringing _her_ home.

Charles hadn’t shared any details about the active part of the mission after they had come down here. They all knew the plan, but the Professor hadn’t mentioned anything about its execution – not even to Magneto. Logan guessed that would follow after the typical medical examination, during the briefing, when all the reports would be handed over.

The sound of the Blackbird began thundering, and Logan saw the roof splitting in two while the jet was hovering above their heads. He could tell Storm was the one flying it – as she usually did – guessing Jubilee was the co-pilot as it was arranged during the mission briefing a few hours ago.

He watched as the X Men’s pride began its descend carefully, and braced himself; Charles had told him that she was _going_ to be alright. So that meant she wasn’t alright right now; was she hurt? Had she been attacked? Was she one of the three people the stretchers were waiting for, but the Professor didn’t want to admit it to him?

Thinking the possibility of a badly hurt Rogue, Logan felt a snarl escaping him and tried to collect himself. That wouldn’t do any good now; _if_ she was badly hurt, she would need everyone to be calm. He’d find a way to lash his fury out later.

The door opened and Colossus was the first one to exit, carrying a woman – probably in her forties – in his arms. She was literally skin and bones and seemed to be in some kind of lethargy; she wasn’t moving or responding. Logan guessed that she was probably left to starve to death, or to the point where she would do anything for a bite.

Right behind him, Callisto and Pyro were supporting another mutant by having one of her arms around their neck. She was limping, looking badly beaten. Logan randomly remembered where he’d seen her before. It was during the battle at Alcatraz Island; that was the crazy bitch that shot some kind of energy from her hands. Magneto had called her Arclight.

Bobby, Kitty and Jubilee were escorting two teenagers – a boy and a girl – who seemed to be in a much better shape than the first two. All three young X Men seemed to be in good shape; so was Storm, following them, looking only a bit tired and disheartened. Logan didn’t have to guess what they must have seen in that shithole these mutants were kept. He’d been in enough extract missions himself to know the hell they had probably witnessed.

Suddenly, Storm turned to him, her eyes filled with sadness as she stopped and looked behind her. Logan went numb and fear started to overflow him; Rogue was the only one that hadn’t come out yet. What had gone wrong?

He then saw her; bending over someone, a child he guessed, as she was trying to encourage it to go with her. She was holding a small hand in hers and her other was gently placed on the kid’s back, while she was speaking in a tender tone.

The kid didn’t seem too hurt to be unable to walk; nor could he tell any signs of brutal injuries so far. The smells of blood, fear and sweat were smearing the air from the moment the Blackbird’s door had opened, but so far there wasn’t a single person that wasn’t going to fully recover…physically at least.

Just when Rogue managed to get the kid walk down the final step off the jet, Logan finally saw it; a little boy, barely 12 years old – probably the youngest of the mutants they’d extracted. And then he realized why it was so hard for her to convince him to step outside.

The kid was sporting several cuts on his hands; some were old enough that have become misshaped scars, and others were recent enough to still have puss and dry blood on them. His feral eyes saw the distinct burns from cigarettes on his neck. But what he saw those fucked up pricks had done to the boy’s face, made his blood boil.

The left side of the poor child’s face had been carved diagonally; the scar began from his temple and went all the way down to his lips, caused by what he could guess was a dull knife. His left eye was shut – probably for good – and his mouth was deformed from the deep slice. No surgery would ever fix that. The poor boy had suffered too much, and yet he still had a long, painful path towards recovery to endure.

Logan saw everything turn red; taking away his look to check on Rogue, didn’t make things better either.

Her uniform was torn in several places, same as Pete’s, but she was also sporting a couple of bruises on her face; a trickle of blood had been carelessly wiped from her nose. The way her suit was ripped gave away the signs of knife fighting, and the bullets that were stuck on the Kevlar in a failed attempt to kill their target, let on the brutal battle that had taken place.

She was staying close to the little mutant, when he lifted his head and saw everyone standing there, looking at him. The boy quickly turned towards her and hid his face on her side, hugging her leg tightly.

Rogue kneeled down and held the kid protectively, signaling to the paramedics to keep their distance. She caressed his head softly and whispered reassuringly to his ear. The boy started to shake and cradled him, assuring him that she would not leave him alone. At that, his tremble seemed to decrease and she nodded to Hank to come closer.

The blue feral approached carefully to introduce himself, as the boy lifted his head hesitantly. Hank’s appearance was considered by many extreme, but it was a major plus when it came to fledgling mutants that their manifestation was causing "violent" changes to the way they looked; or when the X Men were dealing with survivors who had suffered deformations because of the experiments and the tortures they’d gone through.

The kid was more at ease after a while, and Hank asked from Rogue to follow him to the lab. She lifted the boy to her arms and he wrapped himself around her, hiding his face at the nape of her neck. Hank instructed the two paramedics to take the third stretcher away and told the rest of the X Men to head to his lab to be examined as well.

All of them went after Hank, except Storm, who approached the Professor. Rogue didn’t spare a single glance to anyone, but Logan could see the tears dangling from her eyes, her rage for the men who did this, and her profound compassion for the kid in her tight embrace, as she was trying to make him feel safe.

Erik, Logan, Storm and the Professor watched her walking stiffly past them without a word. After she left, the Professor released a heavy breath and placed a hand on his eyes. "Dear God," he murmured.

"Yes," Storm said quietly. "Most of them were in a state of shock when they were brought to the Blackbird. The poor child had it worst, I’m afraid," she said pointing with her head at the direction Rogue had gone. "There are cuts and scars covering his entire body."

At that, all three men allowed their frustration to surface; Storm kept filling them in.

"We gave them the basic medical care, like Hank had taught us; when Kitty and Rogue tried to find out more about their backgrounds, it was almost impossible for them to tell us anything. Or how much time they had spent in that prison-lab for that matter. Except Arclight; she gave us enough information about what was taking place in that facility."

"Is it over then? Just as it was planned?" Magneto insisted.

"Yes," Storm nodded. "Everything went according to plan."

"Excellent," Erik said, looking pleased. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go see to my people as well. Charles, please let me know when the briefing will take place."

"Will do," the Professor assured him, before Erik disappeared into the elevator.

After he was gone, Storm turned to Charles again. "You should talk to her; once she’s done with Hank," Ororo suggested, talking about Rogue.

"I know how hard these missions are for her. She knows about these labs and what takes place in them better than any of us; even though she does not infiltrate them under the same conditions she was forced to long ago," the Professor said wistfully, like he was thinking out loud.

"What kind of 'conditions'? What do you mean she was '_forced'_?" Logan asked heatedly, an ominous feeling starting to rise within him.

Storm avoided his eyes and tried to bring the conversation back to its original purpose. "She feels it was her fault; that she should have tracked down the lab earlier. She blames herself for what happened to these people."

"As she always does," the Professor said solemnly. "Don’t worry Storm. I’ll talk to her after she’s done. Thank you for everything."

Ororo nodded gratefully and went to be with the rest of the team at the lab. When Charles and Logan were left completely alone, he pushed for the answers no one was giving him.

"What the hell is going on, Charles? Why is she so affected by these missions? What is everyone hiding? Why does no one tell me a damn thing when it comes to her?"

The Professor stared at him, as if he was trying to reach a decision. After a few moments he finally nodded. "I suppose I could give away a bit of information about Rogue’s reaction. But Logan…I’m warning you; I am _not_ sharing anything else besides that. Am I making myself clear?"

Logan agreed impatiently. "Tell me," he demanded.

"Very well." The Professor made a pause to prepare himself and went on. "Logan, Rogue tends to take missions such as this personally, not only because she’s been doing it for far too long to have witnessed horrible things happening to fellow mutants – especially young children; but also because there was a time…she was _one of them_."

Time stopped. His heart stopped. He didn’t say a word, didn’t make a move. The idea that Rogue, the girl who had once shared his memories and pain, the only person who had ever seen the darkness and ugliness hiding underneath him and yet had accepted _all_ of him, had suffered like he did...made him want to go berserk. _The kid? In a _fucking_ lab?_

The Professor read Logan’s shock and anger as he watched him turn his back on him, putting his hands on his head, unable to say anything to what was revealed to him.

"There are many things you’re not aware of, Logan. Especially when it comes to how Rogue became who she is now. But I’m not the one to tell you about it; for more details you should talk to _her_. If she wishes to share her past four years with you, then it’s her choice. But, I’m not the one to give away information about her, in the same way I would never give information about anyone’s life," the Professor pointed out, reminding Logan his discretion about everything he had discovered in Wolverine’s past.

Logan closed his eyes and swallowed the bile he felt rising in his throat. He opened them again and glared at the Professor. His voice was low; grim. "She doesn’t even _look_ at me when I’m in the same room with her. What makes you think she’s gonna talk to me?"

"That is not something I can help you with Logan. You’re an exceptionally introverted person yourself; you of all people should understand her need for privacy when it comes to the darkest parts of her life."

Logan didn’t know how to react to that. Seeing him seething for everything he’d just heard, Charles felt the necessity to share Rogue’s perspective as well; he owed her that much. "Besides, if she doesn’t wish to confess her secrets to you…can you really blame her?" he concluded, hoping that Logan would try to see things through Rogue’s eyes. He wasn’t the only one that had suffered; the least he could do was to acknowledge that.

Logan slumped, feeling defeated. He should have known his past choices wouldn’t be without a heavy price. Charles wasn’t wrong about that. What hurt the most was that, with him missing, Rogue seemed to be the one to have paid a large part of it; and that was something he’d never forgive himself for.

"No," he said lowering his head, putting his hands on his hips. "No I don’t. I won’t blame her if she never talks to me about anything again. I just…I didn’t know…I thought…Jesus Christ," he whispered as he rubbed his face. Suddenly he felt exhausted, like he was lifting the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The Professor saw the regret on Logan’s face, and decided that they had all been through enough. "Come my friend. Let’s go back to my office. I believe a brandy is necessary after such a long day – and I’m certain you agree as well."

"Thanks Charles; I could use a drink right now. Or a case of it."

The Professor smirked. "I’ll see what I can do," he said and prompted Logan to the elevator.

…………………………………………………

He was walking frantically up and down the hall for almost an hour now. Charles had warned him that it would take a long while before Rogue would be able to leave the boy’s side.

Hank had informed both of them that all the team members were absolutely fine, aside the usual bruises and light injuries they’d be carrying for a couple of days. The mutants that had brought back with them were also going to be alright. The woman Pete had carried and the boy Rogue had brought in would have to spend extra time in the lab to monitor them, but eventually they would recover.

For the moment though, the malnourished woman was drip-fed, until she was able to receive solid food, and the kid was too frightened to be left alone. Rogue seemed to be the only one he trusted, so she’d been in the lab right next to him during his examination, waiting for him to sleep, ignoring her wounds that also needed to be tended.

The Professor had stayed in his office with Logan, drinking and discussing about the current state of the country the X Men were dealing with. Logan informed the Professor about the political climate in other countries he’d been to over the past three years and their sentiments about "the mutant issue", and he made suggestions on how they should proceed from now on.

Charles however couldn’t be fooled by Logan’s calm facade. He could tell that seeing Rogue again, her reaction to him, as well as the revelations about a small part of her past had shaken him to his core. Xavier knew it was pointless to try to distract him and advised him to return to his room in order to rest – if that was possible.

"The briefing will probably take place tomorrow morning. Until then, give yourself some time…and to her as well," the Professor consulted him.

"Thanks Professor; for the drink and…everything else."

Charles smiled kindly. "Goodnight Logan. And don’t worry; all will come into place."

Logan had gone back to his room, but he knew there wasn’t going to be any sleep for him tonight. It felt like it had been _days_ instead of hours since he returned to the Mansion, and everything that had happened were swirling inside his head; especially Rogue’s reaction and words.

He stood up from where he was sitting on his bed and lit a cigar. He kept repeating in his head the brief talk they had, the way she treated him; the way she looked…so different, yet the same. She was acting cold and hard, but her eyes couldn’t lie when she took that little boy in her arms. Her love and concern for others was still there. At that, his lips formed a smile. _No. Not so different after all_.

And then his mind started to replay the Professor’s and Hank’s words;

_There was a time…she was one of them_.

_Her power has grown in ways we had never imagined; it has reached such immense heights, that she has truly become…untouchable_.

Logan felt his claws itching to spring out. _What had those fucks done to her? How long had she been kept in their fucking labs? Did they torture her?_

He realized how fucking stupid that last thought was. _Of course_ they had tortured her. _Of course_ they’d made her suffer. Probably why her powers had evolved in ways neither Hank nor the Professor had expected.

He took one last drag from the cigar and threw it down, stomping on it with malice.

_The things she must have done to endure and pull through all that shit…_

At that last thought, a roar came out and he punched the wall with all the rage he’d been struggling to contain.

When he pulled his fist back, three deep holes were distinguishable. _Fuck_. He’d have to fix that. The blood in his hand and the ripped flesh didn’t mind him. The skin was already stitching itself back and the pain was taking away some from the one that’s been crushing his chest ever since he left the hangar.

He ran a hand through his hair; he couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t wait until tomorrow. Maybe it’d be better if he tried to sort things out between them tonight. _Now_.

Knowing in the back of his head this was probably a bad idea, he grabbed his jacket and left his room as fast as he could, keeping himself from thinking it twice and change his mind.

And now he was down at the lower level where the lab was, waiting and pacing, keeping a cigar on his lips, chewing it just to have something to distract him until she came out.

He was getting more and more impatient. He had a lot of time to think how this could go; and that wasn’t good. His courage was about to leave him and second thoughts started to nudge him, when suddenly the door opened and he turned around in time to see Rogue coming out.

His heart clenched when he saw her; she looked exhausted. The upper part of her uniform had been taken off and now it was dangling from her torso. The black tank top she was wearing underneath revealed her badly bruised arms and chest – probably form the impact from the bullets; a deep, long cut adorned her left arm. Her face was a bit swollen where black and blue spots were, and she seemed barely able to keep her eyes open.

She turned to look at him, not showing any sign of anger or irritation.

Logan strode to her quickly. "Jesus, kid, are you alright?"

Rogue kept staring at him, a blank look on her face.

Logan remembered, and awkwardly pulled himself back a bit. "Sorry. I forgot you don’t want me to call you that."

She shook her head, looking discouraged. "It’s alright," she said in a hoarse, tired voice.

Logan kept checking on her, not sure what to do to help her feel better. He desperately wanted to share his healing with her, if anything, just to take the pain of her injuries away. But she would never accept that. Not after everything. Still, he had to take a chance.

He cleared his throat. "Is there anything I can do? _Anything_ to make you feel better?"

She shook her head again, avoiding his stare by keeping her eyes down. "Don’t worry about it. By this time tomorrow I’ll be as good as new."

Logan frowned. "_Tomorrow_? How? This cut seems really deep and the bruises…"

She waved a hand dismissively and began to walk away. He went after her.

"Wait, Rogue, just a sec!" he called and she stopped. She gave him a look, showing him that she was running out of patience.

"Look ki…look, I’m sorry. I know you must be really tired – and in pain," he muttered, glancing at her injuries. "I just wanted to make sure you’re ok; and if the kid’s alright too."

Rogue left a heavy sigh and rubbed her eyes with her hand. "He’s going to spend the rest of his life with a disfigured face. Hank can handle the scars on his body and neck, but his face…his face will always look like this," she finished pointing wearily at the door behind her.

"Shit," Logan murmured. He knew this was the case the moment he saw the boy, but he hoped Hank would be able to find a way to work around that. Sadly, his first speculation was right.

"Yeah," she concluded and began to walk away again.

"Rogue," Logan said again. She turned her head and looked at him; a pained look smeared her beautiful eyes and he had to keep himself from sweeping her into his arms and hold her close to him; give her the same comfort she’d given him several times in the past, when the only one that could see he was bleeding underneath was she.

"It’s going to be alright. It’ll get better; I promise," he whispered with conviction and a fondness he only reserved for her – one last effort to make her feel better.

Rogue said nothing. She took a full turn, and now she was standing before him bloody and sorrowful and worn out; and yet she looked majestic – stronger than he had ever seen her before.

"You _promise_?" she asked so quietly that he barely heard her. _"You_…promise?" she repeated and the realization of what he said hit Logan like a ton of bricks.

She snorted and shook her head. "Is _that_ the secret of life you‘ve been trying to find all these years? _That’s_ why you’ve disappeared for so long?" she asked, and he felt his blood run cold in his veins.

"Does that help you sleep at night? Keeps away the nightmares and the 'what ifs' that plague you?"

He didn’t answer. There was nothing to say. He just stood there, watching her leave him at the cold corridor alone with his guilt, as she quickly strode out of the room, refusing to let him see the tears she’d been holding back, run finally free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: The Professor steps in and deep buried feelings come out


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Rogue becomes unexpectedly open about Logan, and begins to share thoughts and feelings about him. And i say "unexpectedly" because that is not how i intended the story to go, nor i could ever imagined that Rogue would be willing to let out what she kept inside about her and Logan so soon. In the end, it all worked out pretty well - thanks to the Professor mostly and his decision to take the matter into his own hands.

_Cold. Quiet. Pain. Numbness. Relief._

She loved staying underwater as much as possible. This eerie element offered her a serene tranquility she couldn’t find even at her most prominent moments during meditation. Everytime she allowed water to engulf her fully into its embrace, the world stopped existing. There were no voices; no grief; no past and no present. Only a hypnotic state filled with a sense of safety…and peace.

Rogue allowed herself to resurface and took a deep breath. Her hands carefully wiped away the abundance of droplets from her face and eyes, and gently slicked back her long hair that was now cascading on her wet back. She rested her arms on the sides of the big, round bathtub and allowed herself to relax in order to speed up the healing process.

The water surrounding her was cold – as it always was after a mission, an excessive effort at the gym, or an intensive Danger Room session. Big chunks of ice were twirling around each other, leaving light, cold kisses on her porcelain skin everytime they touched it, offering some extra relief to her sore body.

She laid her head back slowly and closed her eyes. Her thick eyelashes touched her cheekbones, allowing the small pearls hanging onto them to delicately stream all the way down to her neck.

She let the scent from the bath salts fill her nostrils, and the blissful melody of "Flower Duet" her ears.

She knew she couldn’t stay hidden in her room forever, sheltered from the real world by scents and sounds and feels; but she planned to postpone her return as much as possible. Too much to face in one day; and the day wasn’t over yet.

The harmonious voices stopped their singing, and the room surrendered to silence.

Rogue continued to keep her focus on the ice cubes and their strange dancing everytime her palm gracefully disturbed the water; she was trying to keep her mind clear and empty from all the thoughts that were struggling to sneak their way back in, but tonight that seemed much harder.

She had managed to block the onslaught of the mental reflections during her practice, yet they had been too persistent from start to finish.

After her clothes spilled to the floor and she stood on the mat, she was determined to push away what she’d been in denial about all morning. She knew denial wasn’t going to work in the long run, but she didn’t feel ready to face _him_ yet. So, she chose to postpone it by focusing more on her body and less on her mind. It had worked.

After the end of her practice, she went to her private bathroom to finish what she’d started. She stripped her body from her underwear, and immersed herself into water – and her private world.

When she felt physically satiated, she got out of the tub to prepare herself for the next step. She knew she couldn’t keep her thoughts and fears pushed down forever. She’d tried that in the past and the results had almost been disastrous. She knew better now and her training had helped her to discover methods that reinforced her psyche by dealing with her demons instead of hiding from them. She had embraced the pain – physical, mental and emotional – in several ways, several times; some less challenging, others too devastating. She’d managed to walk through every single one of them and reconstruct herself by adding another newly discovered part to her inner stash. Why should this be any different?

She put on a new set of underwear and sat on the floor; her legs landed on the lotus pose, while her back went utterly straight. She kept her head relaxed and steady and started to breathe deeply, evenly, until she was ready to enter another dimension inside her head; one that always had something to teach her, but so little joy to offer her.

……………………………………………

Rogue knew there was no sleep for her tonight. After an hour on her yoga mat, her – almost an hour – long bath and another hour of meditating, she had reached the conclusion that rest was going to be elusive to her.

She decided to go to the med bay and check on Hank and the little boy, as well as the rest of the mutants still kept there. She was pretty certain that Hank wasn’t going to leave their side, so she might as well keep him and anyone else who was still awake, some company.

After spending some time on the lower levels, Hank insisted on her to go and get rest, unaware of her previous tenacious efforts to achieve that. She left, after she was ensured he’d get something to eat – aside his favorite Twinkies – and some sleep as well.

While she was leaving the med bay, she heard the Professor’s call.

_Rogue. My apologies for disturbing you this inappropriate hour. I was planning to speak with you in the morning, but since you’re awake, would you be kind enough to come to my office? There’s something I would like to discuss with you, and I believe – even though a bit unusual, given the time – this might be a perfect moment. No one will disturb us._

Rogue sighed and nodded, aware that the Professor was right; it’d be better to talk things through and end with it as soon as possible. After that, she’d have enough time for herself.

She turned on her heels and headed to the elevator.

………………………………………

Rogue was about to knock, when she heard the Professor’s gentle voice. "Please, come in Rogue."

She smiled. She knew he was going to do that, as she knew she didn’t need to knock. The Professor was always aware of who was going to him, and knocking wasn’t really necessary – especially when someone was summoned by him –, but Rogue insisted on doing it. It gave her a sense of respect towards his private space, even though Charles had made clear that she was never intruding. Yet, he understood how important privacy and the appropriate respect to it was for her, so under a mutual, silent understanding they had decided to keep acting the way they did.

Rogue opened the door and walked towards the Professor, her smile turning to one of fondness for the man who was looking at her, the same emotion filling his eyes. She sat opposite him and decided to wait for him to make the first move.

The Professor tilted slightly towards her and put his hands on the desk. "You couldn’t sleep?"

Rogue shook her head slightly. "You know how hard it is for me to calm down after those kinds of missions. Don’t worry; it’s just the overwhelming tension taking its toll. Tomorrow everything will be fine," she tried to reassure him. 

"The process you always follow after the missions didn’t help ease the tension at all?"

"It did," she nodded. "But I’m gonna need something more than yoga, a long bath and meditation to settle my mind tonight, Professor."

Charles also nodded knowingly and cast his eyes on her clothes. Long black boots, tight jeans, black gloves and a grey, asymmetrical, loose shirt that left her one shoulder uncovered. The black leather jacket that was hanging from her hand when she entered his office was now resting on the couch. She didn’t seem willing to spend the rest of the night in the privacy of her room, nor the quietness of the Mansion. Perhaps he had misjudged the grievousness of the matter.

"From your attire, I should guess that you’re going to spend your spare time outside the school?" he asked carefully.

Rogue hesitated. "Only a couple of hours, just to clear my head. Sometimes it’s easier when I’m among complete strangers."

"I see," the Professor concluded. Rogue was watching him, waiting patiently for him to start the conversation; he could tell that much, as he could tell that he should stop delaying the reason she was called to his office in the first place. Rogue obviously needed some solitary in order to reacquire the degree of balance she had struggled over the years to possess; he shouldn’t keep squandering her time, nor her limited energy.

"Rogue, as you probably already guessed, the reason I called you here is because of what happened today in the War Room-"

"I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did," Rogue cut him off. "Especially in the presence of other team members. I’m sorry; it won’t happen again," she finished, regret covering her face.

The Professor was taken aback. He’d expected a passionate retaliation from Rogue – given the clumsy, thoughtless way he had dealt with Logan’s return when it came to her. In fact, he was ready to let her outbreak her disappointment of him and he was more than willing to accept it without any protest. But for once more, this young woman before him was leaving him astounded with her response to his way of dealing with this matter.

"Actually, my dear…I was going to say that _I_ am sorry. Sorry for not treating this issue in a more delicate way…"

The Professor trailed off as he watched Rogue shaking her head fiercely, eyes closed.

"That’s not what I was angry about; _you_ should know it," she pointed. "I didn’t want a 'delicate approach', or 'a special treatment'. I just wanted to be given the facts from you, instead of hearing the decision you made from everyone else but the one person who was supposed to inform me in the first place."

Charles lowered his head embarrassed and in, a somewhat, agreement. But before he was able to explain to her, Rogue continued. "Still; that doesn’t excuse my outburst in the War Room. It wasn’t the place, nor the time to let out my opinion about Wolverine’s addition to the team. I should have been more discreet…and less selfish."

"Selfish?" the Professor frowned.

Rogue lay back on the chair and sighed heavily. "I might be a team leader Professor, but that doesn’t mean I have the right to lecture you about your choices…or how you decide to run things. There are times that I forget my place. So, don’t feel obligated to apologize for the decision you’ve made. This is your house; the place you turned into a sanctuary, where you’ve accepted all of us with open arms when the whole world had turned its back on us. I’m not in position to say who’s welcomed here and who’s not."

The Professor watched her as she spoke in astonishment – and pride. So many miles the young girl that had appeared starved and frightened in his school 6 years ago had crossed. He gave her a paternal look of affection as he moved his wheelchair near her and took her gloved hand into his.

"My dear child, one of the team leader’s obligations is to give his/her opinion about the candidates who wish – or we wish them – to become X Men. And if I want to be completely honest here, one of the things I appreciate immensely about you is that you never hide behind words when it comes to voice your opinion. Given how often people try to earn my favor and tell me what I want to hear, your straightforwardness is not only a breath of fresh air…but also invaluable; especially during situations where my judgment might be clouded."

"I know a lot of people who would disagree with you," Rogue teased with a sneaky grin.

The Professor laughed. "Luckily I’m one of those who are being honest when they say they wish to be surrounded by outspoken individuals."

Rogue’s smile fell a bit at this and held Charles’ hand in hers tightly. "Still…my attitude towards you in the War Room was unacceptable; and I _am_ sorry for that."

"I am very sorry too my child. And I want to be honest as well, you were right to react the way you did. I should be the one to discuss about Logan coming back with you; but I’m afraid I wasn’t sure how to act on it…and I was a bit skeptical when it came to the possible reaction you might have."

"Like the one I had in the War Room?" Rogue provoked him.

Charles didn’t allow himself to pick up the gauntlet. "From what I was told, there had also been an incident right before the meeting began that had already upset you," he tried to maneuver.

Rogue’s hand left his and waved it in the air with contempt. "Same old; nothing to worry about. And if you think this will keep you from answering my question, then you’re underestimating me _again_."

"Can I appeal to your respect towards my person in hopes that you’ll let me get away with it?" the Professor tried to humor her.

"No," she said bluntly and Charles silenced.

Rogue leaned forward and whispered to him. "But you can always appeal to my _love_ towards your person."

The Professor felt the wave of warmth coming out of his beloved former student, engulfing him, and opened his arms as she got up from her chair and kneeled in front of him to take him in hers.

After a moment, she leaned backwards and looked at him mischievously. "Just don’t make a habit out of it," she sassed him.

Charles let out another laugh and nodded. "I promise you to never try to take advantage of such gift, my dear."

Rogue sat back at her chair, a wide smirk still on her red lips, and suddenly the rock that was placed in her heart since this morning felt much lighter. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

The Professor paused for a moment. He had talked about his decision for Logan’s addition to the team with everyone but Rogue. A long time ago he’d reached the conclusion that if there was anyone who could help the X Men – and him – to face the bigger picture about "the mutant issue" and try to reverse it with more determination, that was Rogue. Her training as an X Man and a field agent made her contribution to this war extremely important. And she had personally experienced the human decisiveness to eliminate the mutant kind first hand.

She had witnessed the work that was taking place in the labs, and she had survived most of the horrid situations a mutant could end up at.

He frowned as he recalled the atrocities she’d crossed paths with. It pained him greatly to know how much she suffered during his "absence" and everything that followed after the cure had worn out. She had dedicated herself to the cause, leaving her personal choices – and herself – aside. If anything, after all the efforts, the battles and the sacrifices she’d made to contain this situation they were in, he owed her ability to overcome any obstacle a little more faith.

"Actually," the Professor said "there is one more thing I would like to discuss with you."

"Go on," Rogue encouraged him.

"What do you think about Logan being an X Man again?"

Rogue went stiff for a moment, but forced herself to relax almost immediately. The reaction didn’t escape Charles’ attention – nor did the way she laid back on the chair, placing her hands on the arms carefully, her eyes focusing down. She breathed out, looking like she was considering her response.

"Why you’re asking me this when you already know the answer? Wasn’t your doubt about my ability to handle his recruitment the reason you’ve been avoiding me since the beginning?"

"I will admit that this is partially true; nevertheless, I would like to hear you express your judgment on this matter vocally," the Professor insisted.

Rogue shifted a bit on her seat, bringing her hands together. "Before I share my opinion about it, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Charles replied.

"Do you think he’s ready?" Rogue asked.

The Professor’s brow furrowed and tilted his head questioningly.

"Just because he decided to return _now_ – of all the times he could’ve come back…you _really_ think he’s ready? Especially for what’s coming?"

Realizing what Rogue’s worry was about, the Professor silenced. When he had discovered Logan’s desire to return, he was pretty convinced it meant that the tormented man had finally managed to reconcile with his actions at Alcatraz Island and had left this part of his life behind him for good. But the way Rogue had asked the question, made him wonder if he hadn’t thought about this as thoroughly as he should. She did, after all, have the ability to make a person think of all the parameters just in case a detail that could make a world of difference to the outcome had slipped past one’s attention.

His stare was cautious. "You believe I have jumped to a false conclusion with him?"

"Please answer my question," Rogue insisted.

The Professor pondered for a moment. "I believe that the grave wound he was carrying within him after Jean’s death and the Phoenix’s destruction has finally healed, and he’s been preparing himself for a new beginning ever since he made the decision to return to us."

Rogue considered Charles’ theory for a moment. "And you think that just because he roamed the earth for a couple of years and now has probably nowhere else to go – knows, probably, no one else who’s willing to take him back – that this is a good enough reason to believe he’s willing to be an X Man again?"

The Professor was procrastinating. He wasn’t ready to admit that Rogue did make a solid argument.

"Have you talked to him about the situation here? About what we’re dealing with? That things are far worse now than they’ve been since Alkali Lake _and_ Alcatraz?"

"There wasn’t much time to talk about it in details I’m afraid, but Rogue I assure you-"

"Professor," Rogue stopped him in a gentle tone. "Even if you’d given him all the details about what’s being going on with the mutant rights and the Registration Act; the labs that have been sprouting like mushrooms; the mutant slave trade, the abductions and all the missing mutants that no one cares what happened to them; about the time the Mansion was attacked – _again_ – and was _bombed_ as well…doesn’t the fact that he knows nothing about all those things – that he never _cared_ to find out if things were going well here – tell you anything?"

Charles was staring at her knowingly. He was aware about Rogue’s feelings for Logan’s disappearance. The fact that he had never attempted to be in touch with her – even sporadically – added even more to her bitterness. But he knew she wasn’t wrong. After he was informed about the events that led to Phoenix’s defeat and Jean’s inevitable death, he was pretty certain that Logan wasn’t going to be able to handle it. This man had a unique way to face and deal with the challenges life brought to him and, sadly, during those times he hardly put any thought on the consequences of his actions.

Still though, Rogue had legit reasons to worry and be skeptical about Logan’s loyalty and stability – particularly after everything she’d sifted through his thoughts and memories. Her own hardships and losses didn’t help with her lack of trust in him either. Charles couldn’t help wonder though, if the woman before him was aware about Logan’s present state of mind, and how strongly he was affected by the changes he’d come across within the Mansion; particularly _hers_.

Seeing him remain quiet, Rogue finally let her greatest concern out. "And even if he really _is_ interested in rejoining the team and fight with us till the end…what makes you think he’s less predictable now?"

"What do you mean?" the Professor asked.

"What if he finds a new clue about his past and decides to leave again? Or even worse, what if a similar situation like the one with Jean happens again? What if he lets his feelings drag him once more into a dangerous, stupid _game_ and ends up on the edge of a mental place he might never be able to come back from? What then? Can you assure me – _all of us_ – that he won’t make the same mistakes all over? Is his mind in the right place this time?"

The Professor was watching her, flustered. He’d never imagined that Rogue would open up about that. She always seemed determined to keep her feelings – especially about Logan and his partial involvement with Jean – shielded away from everyone. But then again, the post-cure Rogue was never prone to share her experiences and feelings with him – or anyone else for that matter. In fear of tainting others with all she’d been through and putting more of a load on his shoulders by allowing him access to her mind, she kept struggling to find a resemblance of peace on her own; or with the help of others who were already as damaged as she was.

Yet, he couldn’t let this small window of opportunity go wasted. He always wondered if, with all the thoughts and energy Rogue had absorbed from Logan, she was aware of the true nature of his feelings towards Jean.

The Professor never tried to interfere nor pry into other people’s personal affairs, unless it was absolutely necessary; but in this case, perhaps it would have been for the best if he had helped Logan see his attraction for Jean for what it truly was. Then maybe all of this pain wouldn’t have been required…

The mental and emotional confusion that were accompanying Logan for almost two decades, as well as the solitary life he was leading – allowing only physical, temporary connections with others – had managed to blur the lines and aspects of what was true emotion and what not. Inevitably, that confusion had not only affected his behavior towards Jean, but it had also spread into his relationship with Rogue – the first one he’d had after years of isolation; a connection so deep, yet elusive and complex for someone with such a troubled mind.

He wondered again how much Rogue knew about all this.

"May I ask you a question, as you did, before I answer you?"

"Please," Rogue nodded.

"Do you believe that Logan’s feelings for Jean were truly genuine?"

"I’m not following you," Rogue said, narrowing her eyes.

"You think that what Logan felt for Jean…was _real_ love?"

Rogue halted and then stood up quickly, pacing around the room. "It doesn’t matter what I think," she whispered and crossed her arms. "Whether it was love, infatuation or sexual attraction, the result is the same. After all Professor, the important thing is how _he_ saw it…regardless whether he has sure about it or just misguided."

"I agree," the Professor answered. "But, like before, I’d like your honest opinion about it. It might help discover if he _is_ ready to handle the responsibilities that come with the uniform or not."

Rogue’s face had a sullen expression while she was considering the question. The Professor waited patiently and watched as she walked slowly towards the desk to lean onto it. Her arms remained crossed in front of her – a sign of emotional recoil.

"Do you remember a couple of years ago when we had this conversation about my trip to India? I was on a spiritual quest and every time I had the chance, I was visiting places where people from all over the world gathered there for the same purpose."

"I always remember vividly these conversations. The knowledge and experiences you brought back with you everytime were profound, and I enjoyed more than I can tell you sharing them with me," the Professor smiled.

Rogue nodded. "I was studying and practicing Yoga, reading the Vedas, being taught the philosophy behind this system of values and beliefs – among other things."

At this she paused, seemingly lost in memories and Charles knew better than to talk and interrupt her contemplation.

"Some things stayed with me and others were just left behind. But there was one lesson I’ll never forget for as long as I live.

There was a teacher who once told me that love is not an emotion; emotions – like joy, sorrow, anger, pain, happiness, hate – always end. But love – _true_ love – is a state of _consciousness_; a state that can be recognized only by our Higher Self – the divine part that dwells within us. And therefore, love cannot end. It has the ability to transcend, reshape, transform, and also be invisible to our heart if we wish to. But it can never end or die, even if we or the person that inspired such love to us does. Our bodies will eventually perish, but love – just like our soul – is immortal and beyond the restrictions of this material world. Once real love finds its way in, it dwells within us for good. In this and any other world; in this and any other life."

Charles was listening, fascinated. Through his conversations with Rogue, he had discovered that the young girl had made a tremendous effort to explore and understand parts that most people of her age didn’t even realize they existed. Her early on traumatic experiences combined with her challenging mutation, had turned her into a young person bearing an old soul and a mind that carried knowledge most individuals would need more than one life to possess.

"That is truly wondrous Rogue," he said.

"There is one catch though," Rogue continued. "In order to experience such love Professor, to be able to embrace it, you need to be strong enough to love _yourself_ first. One needs to accept and _believe_ that we deserve to love as much as to be loved; and that is something that many people just can’t process. Especially _him_. 

He’s _so_ overwhelmed by self-loathing and lack of faith that he deserves better; how is it possible to let anyone in? He barely accepts his feral side for what it is, how is he going to believe that someone can wholeheartedly love _all_ of him – without terms or exceptions? 

Trust me Professor; I know this man better than anyone…even _himself_. I have his mind in my mind, his darkest parts within me. There’s chaos and fury, pain and loss, all adorned in confusion and fear and denial."

At this Rogue stopped for a moment and lowered her eyes. When she looked at Charles again, they were filled with compassion and sadness.

"But I also know that underneath it all there’s passion, determination, loyalty and a personal sense of honor."

The Professor was stunned. Rogue never told him that she had managed to infiltrate so deep inside Logan’s psyche. She’d never mentioned anything about him ever since he was gone; to discover now that she had witnessed and accepted a major part of him within her was something he’d never expected.

"So, to answer your question, Professor, _no_. I don’t believe he loved Jean. I believe that there was passion and lust for a woman that was completely different than the ones he used to…_socialize_ with," Rogue said, lifting both eyebrows and Charles let out a short laugh.

"-And I also believe that it was too easy for him to mistake infatuation for love. Plus, the fact that Jean was someone he could never have, added an extra bonus of intrigue to this…'challenge'. Don’t forget, we talk about a man who’s used to reaching out and taking whatever he wanted without putting any thought to it. To want something that he couldn’t have, was simply inevitable – and the oldest story in the book."

Xavier nodded in agreement. In the end of it all, the whole situation between Logan and Jean was nothing but a big fiasco of misunderstanding. One that sadly was, partially, the result of Jean’s subtle encouragement, not realizing probably that at some level Logan was not as casual about his intentions as she had imagined.

Rogue placed her hands on the desk and decided it was time for this conversation to come to an end. This was pointless; discussing something that could not be undone, and that mostly involved people she wanted to keep her distance from, wasn’t going to do any good.

She sighed and gave her final conclusion. "I do believe though that he’s more than capable to love. _Truly_; _deeply_; in a way that most people would be unable to handle. But he won’t. Not yet at least. He’s not prepared for that. And this answers the first question you asked me Professor."

Charles snapped his eyes to her, coming out off his thoughts abruptly. "How so?"

"You asked me if I thought he was ready; the answer is no, I don’t. He’s _not_ ready. I don’t know what he saw or learned – _if_ he learned anything – during these four years he’s been away, but I don’t see any major change. The way he greeted me in the War Room, the way he acted showed me that he’s still the same man he used to be; someone with no respect of time, thinking it flows in the same manner for the rest us as it does for him. Keep living and growing on his own, slow, pace and expecting others to adjust to it. Being surprised for the changes he sees around him because he hasn’t changed himself _at all_; not in a way that matters at least.

He’s still not a part of this world Professor. He keeps floating in and out of it and, honestly, that’s not what we need right now."

"Rogue-"

"I understand him Professor," she cut him off. "I really do. We all have our ways of dealing with our demons and the ghosts that haunt us; that’s his way and I respect that. But that doesn’t mean I have any obligation to go along with it," she emphasized.

Charles stared at her, realizing it would be much harder to reconcile the new situation with the old one than he thought. "Does that mean you’re not willing to make an effort to see what might happen, if all these qualities of Logan you previously described come to the surface?"

Rogue looked at him suspiciously and she slowly stood up, approaching him. "How exactly do you think this can happen?"

The Professor gathered his courage and took the risk. "You are correct, about what you said. Logan’s emotional and mental status was nearly shattered when he first came here. The truth is, he needed guidance in several matters – particularly in the personal ones. But I feared if I pushed too much, he might react angrily and decide to shut me down for trying to look too deep into places he did not want me to see. That, in combination with my own choice not to intervene into personal matters unless it was considered vital, led to results I honestly did not see coming.

But now, I believe we have the chance to do it right."

"_We_?" Rogue asked leaning forward, her brows shot up in surprise.

"Yes," the Professor simply answered. "You said it yourself Rogue; you’re the only one who’s ever been in the furthest depths of his mind. You know him. _Truly_ know him, not just this persona he adopted to keep everyone away. And your connection with him, your importance to his life might be what he truly needs to integrate these qualities you aforementioned that he fears so much to let out."

Rogue was watching him with an unreadable look on her face. Charles knew he was asking too much, but it had to be done. She’d let what had happened all this time ago affect her for too long; it was time to face that as well. And so did Logan.

She calmly straightened herself and turned to him. "Professor…I was mad at you when you chose to avoid talking directly with me about this subject; not only because you made every single one of us walk on eggshells, but also because I thought you would know that you can ask my opinion without having to worry about personal issues getting in the way of my impartiality. But I’m afraid that the one who’s been biased all this time is you."

"I understand I ask too much, my dear," the Professor tried to explain.

"No, I don’t think you do," Rogue insisted. "You’re asking me to reopen old wounds, and for what? _Him_?"

"Not just him; for you as well," Charles emphasized.

"I’ll deal with this part of my past when _I_ decide it, in a way _I_ consider proper. And I’ll do it for the right reasons Professor, not for yours or anyone else’s sake."

"My child, I don’t think you hear what I say," Xavier tried to reason with Rogue as he went closer and reached a hand to her.

She immediately stepped back, her hands stretching at her sides, adopting a defensive stance against him.

"No, I hear perfectly well what you say. You just forget that I go as far as to hear all the things that someone does _not_ say, but clearly _implies_. Don’t make it sound like this is about me; it’s not even about him. This is about _you_. You’re so convinced that he’s the only one that can save the day, that even though you _admitted_ yourself he’s not ready, you _insist_ on making him be ready anyway!"

"You said it _yourself_ before Rogue," the Professor pointed out. "We do not know what kind of lessons he’s learned. Maybe he decided to return because he’s ready to go beyond the person he’s been all this time. Does it not seem like too much of a coincidence to you that he decided to return to us now for it to just be one?"

"I see a man who’s placed all his hopes on a person that has no clue about what’s going on," Rogue said in a bitter voice. "And honestly, I don’t know what scares me more Professor: your blind faith in him, or his cluelessness. Maybe you don’t think we are good enough for what lies ahead, but I have faith in our people; we’ve managed to get this far, we’ll get to finish what started years ago. With or without the Wolverine."

The Professor moved his chair closer to Rogue again, trying to close both the physical and emotional distance between them. "You told me that I had no reason to worry about your judgment been affected by personal matters, yet I’m afraid it has been happening ever since Logan came back to the Mansion," he said in a calm tone.

"I could say the same for you Professor," Rogue said tiredly and began to pace around the room, hands placed on her hips.

"Rogue…I know," Charles said and she turned around to look at him puzzled. "I am aware of today’s…incident while you were preparing yourself for the mission."

Rogue was completely motionless, but he felt her shutting down immediately. She only said one thing that was more of a conclusion than a question. "Jubilee?"

The Professor shook his head. "She didn’t need to. During those 'incidents' you tend to project immensely. Plus, the powers you possess now do not affect only the lower levels."

Embarrassment seemed to fill her, and she tried to stutter an explanation. "I…"

"My dear, this is _not_ an accusation, but merely a statement. I’m just trying to help you see that you’re not as unaffected as you claim, not to degrade you," he said, hoping that she would listen.

She shook her head and turned around, resting her face in her hands. They were both exhausted and emotionally drained, and she felt the need to run away. She had to end this; _now_.

"Regardless Professor, aside from my temporary lack of control this afternoon, it seems we hit a wall. We’re not going to be in accord on this subject, so let’s just agree that we disagree. I get why you think Wolverine’s addition will give us the upper hand and, believe me, I hope you’re right. You have every right to make the decision to include him to one of the teams, and if the time comes where he and I have to fight side by side, I give you my word that there won’t be any problem. But allow me to make myself clear right here and now about one thing; _I_ get to decide who’s going to be a part of my life and who’s not. I don’t know how you plan to help him readjust to the life in the Mansion and bring out the best in him, but I don’t want to have anything to do with it. Or him," Rogue stated, disappointment filling her as she grabbed her jacket and went for the door, away from Charles and their conversation.

"Rogue, my child, please," the Professor followed her and she halted. Her shoulders slumped and she turned to face him, looking resigned.

"I’m sorry. I know I have pressured you too much. But I assure you, my intention was not selfish. This isn’t just about Logan. It’s mostly about _you_. You think I haven’t noticed all these years how you avoided everything that had to do with him in the slightest way? It pains me to see this eat you up inside and it’s been happening for too long now. You _need_ to confront it in order to make peace with it."

Rogue looked at him with the same affection she had in the beginning. "I know," she whispered, taking his hand on hers. "I _know_. But what you, and everyone else, don’t seem to understand is that when I left this place I accepted the things that happened for what they were, said my goodbyes and buried everything six feet under. That’s why I don’t understand why everyone’s been insisting on digging them out; what’s the point of going back to all this?"

The Professor placed his other hand on hers and tried one last time. "Are you positive that the reason you buried – as you call it – what happened was because it is truly over and not for the sole purpose of hiding it?"

Rogue tilted her head and smiled at him; a heavyhearted, grievous smile that told him everything he needed to know. "Why do you think I still mourn?"

………………………………………………

Logan pulled a long drag from his cigar and watched the red tip glowing brighter in the darkness of the night as the fire was gnawing his Cuban.

After his talk with Rogue at the lab, he couldn’t go back to his room; so he’d decided to spend the rest of the night outside, walking around Xavier’s property, smelling the scents of the grass, the trees and the smoke, lost in his thoughts. His right hand was dangling a bottle of scotch – courtesy of Ororo, from the X Men’s secret emergency stash. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one keeping some liquid consolation in his private space.

He nursed from the bottle and let the scents that surrounded him clear his head. Not an easy thing to do though. He couldn’t stop replaying the last words Rogue had told him before she left.

_You _promise_?_

_Is _that_ the secret of life you‘ve been trying to find all these years? _That’s_ why you’ve disappeared for so long?_

_Does that help you sleep at night? Keeps away the nightmares and the ‘what ifs’ that plague you?_

He huffed in frustration. She was right. What the fuck did he know about comforting someone?

Yet, there was a time he gave that to her. Comfort. Consolation. _Safety_.

_Come on, I’ll take care of you._

_You promise?_

_Yeah…yeah, I promise._

You…_promise_?

He remembered the smell of her tears as she tried to hide them by running away from him; the hurt and the anguish she exuded.

He shut his eyes and took another drag from his cigar and more than a few gulps of whiskey. The amber liquid burned his throat as it went down, doing little to no good for the pang in his chest.

He leaned on a tree trunk trying to figure out how to deal with her. If the woman she had become wanted nothing with him, he understood. He’d respect her decision and keep his distance – no matter how much it’d cost him. But he hated seeing in her eyes the same struggle he had within, unable to do something to help her. He knew all too well the kind of battle she was going through; he was more than aware of the toll it took on someone’s soul. He didn’t want that for her. She could keep him at arm’s length, but he wasn’t going to sit back and watch her lose herself, becoming someone she wasn’t supposed to be.

At that he paused for a moment, the bottle halfway to his mouth. What if he’d come too late? What if there wasn’t anything he could do for her anymore? Had he truly lost her? _For good_?

He felt cold spreading from his gut to his entire body. Ever since he’d found her hiding to the back of his truck, Rogue was always the only thing constant to his world. Wherever he went, no matter how long he was gone, he always knew he had someone to go back to – someone who’d be there, waiting for him. And because of that, the world never seemed as bleak as it used to be; the pain he felt and the losses he’d endured didn’t consume him anymore. 

But now…now all of this seemed to be taken away from him. Instead of feeling welcomed here, to the place he once felt almost like home, he just felt like an outsider – not because of the hesitant way he was treated by the rest of the X Men, but because of Rogue’s reaction. The words she spoke to him and the way she’d acted made him face what he didn’t want to admit: he’d been gone for too long. And during his absence, she’d found a way to move on…to be without him. And never in his life could he have imagined it would cut him so deeply.

He heard it before he saw it. The roar of a Ducati engine accompanying the loud noise the garage door was making while opening. He got up and walked towards it. _Who the hell was riding a bike in this place after he and Cyke were gone?_

Logan stared flabbergasted as Rogue appeared, riding the red Ducati all the way to the gates of the Mansion that were already letting the road wide open for her to drive away from this place to God knew where.

_What the actual fuck?_

He watched her disappearing within moments, stone-still, while he kept looking at the spot for a few more minutes after she was gone. He lifted an eyebrow in a mixture of surprise, admiration, and what could only call enticement. Now wasn’t that a sight for sore eyes?

He felt someone’s presence behind him and turned in time to see Charles looking at the same direction he was a second ago. He saw the worry in his eyes and tried to interpret what it meant. Was she sent to another mission? _So soon_?

The Professor turned his eyes at him behind the closed window and Logan spoke to him in the only possible way he could, given their distance. _Everything ok?_

_I’m afraid not, _he said in a heavy tone. _I’m concerned about her._

_Why? What’s wrong? What did you say to her? _Logan demanded, the fierce protectiveness he always felt for Rogue coming out in waves.

_There’s a lot in her mind she needs to settle. And so do you. You need to help each other with this._

_How the hell am I supposed to do that when she avoids me like the plague? _Logan asked frustrated.

_Perhaps the Mansion wasn’t the best place to reintroduce yourselves to each other. Maybe a neutral ground away from here will do it for both of you, _the Professor implicated.

Logan realized the opportunity that was given to him and he wasn’t going to waste another second overthinking about it. He put out his cigar and threw the bottle right next to the tree he was resting few minutes ago. _Where is she going?_

_I’ll let you know on your way to the garage, _Charles said and Logan marched as quickly as possible.

_And Logan? _The Professor called and Logan stopped and gave a look behind his shoulder.

_Whatever happens, let her speak. Allow her to say everything she needs to let out. She deserves as much, _Charles advised him.

_I know, _Logan admitted. _Don’t worry. I’m aware_ _I _owe_ her as much._

And with that, he started running towards the nearest vehicle he could find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: The time has come


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that this story comes to its end, i would like to thank once more englishmajor226 for all of her support, help and beta. I will always be grateful for convincing me to do this.
> 
> To all of you readers and followers of this story, thank you from the bottom of my heart for the cudos and all your incredible comments. I love you a million. 
> 
> In the final chapter, you get to meet an OC that has played an important role in Rogue's past and will be seen again in the future. I had Danny Trejo in mind while i was writing him, but feel free to picture him in any way you want.

"Sleeping Dogs" wasn’t exactly a bar someone would call classy, but compared to most dives in New York, it was a pretty decent one. Still, that wasn’t the reason Rogue had picked this place to settle for tonight. 

As she walked through the door, she thought back to all the times this sink had been not only a valid place for solid information, but also a refuge from all the problems and hardships that plagued her mind.

She looked around and was greeted by some random guys who probably had found their way down here by accident and by some very familiar faces who saluted her by raising their glasses. She nodded in return and went straight to the bulky man behind the counter, who was too busy with a couple of boxes to notice her.

"Como está indo Manoel?" _How’s it going Manoel?_

The man turned around and an honest smile widened his lips.

"_Vampira_! Bem vindo de volta!" _Rogue! Welcome back!_

He rushed outside the counter and opened his arms. Rogue returned the smile and the gesture by hugging him as tightly as he held her.

Manoel was one of the few people Rogue could rely on ever since she became an active participant in the inconspicuous war between humans and mutants that had began years ago. A mutant himself and a former bounty hunter who was considered a legend among soldiers of fortune, the Brazilian known with the nickname "le Pistolero" had been not only a valuable ally, but also a loyal friend, willing to share his knowledge, his sources and his help in every way he could.

His bar was popular among people like them for a good reason; Manoel was neutral. It didn’t matter which side you served or had fought for, whether you were mutant or human. None of this counted in his place and he was respected enough by everyone to follow the rules. If not, he had ways – and people – to make someone come around.

Rogue patted him tenderly on the back before pulling herself away. She could count on one hand the people that had absolutely no hesitation when it came to her mutation and its main drawback, and Manoel was one of them. From the first moment he was told about her skin, Rogue had seen the gruff, coarse man stare at her in awe and respect – but never in fear. He’d won her over ever since.

Manoel put his heavy arm around Rogue’s waist and led her to the counter. She took a seat while he went back to whatever he was doing before she’d arrived.

"You need help with those?" Rogue pointed at the boxes.

He turned and gave her an offended look. "Even if I did, I’d never ask it from a lady. You know I’m old fashioned like that."

"'Old' is the key word alright," Rogue replied sassily, lifting an eyebrow.

Manoel put the boxes away and placed his hands on the counter, showing off his bare, muscled biceps that seemed to belong more to a weight lifter, rather to a man in his mid-fifties. "Someone’s in the mood for getting into trouble," he teased her with a fake warning.

She shook her head and flashed him a smile. She’d never make the mistake to underestimate a man like him. An advice he’d given her long ago came to her mind; _beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young_.

"Not really. But you know me; I can’t resist our little games," she flirted.

"I know," he said giving her a condescending nod. "Not your fault, kid; I’m irresistible like that."

Rogue laughed out loud at his half-fake arrogance, though her heart panged at the word "kid". Manoel was a tough man who’d seen a lot, lived a lot, and done a lot. His experiences were carved on his face and body – mementos of a former life long gone. Most people would describe him as "wild" and "scary", but he’d always treated her with fondness and tended to be quite protective towards her – especially in the beginning, when everything about this side of life was still new to her.

He reminded her of someone she held close to her heart very much; perhaps a little _too_ much.

She pushed down the thought and placed her fingers on her temples. _Not tonight_, she thought for the second time today. Those blasts from the past were starting to make her mind look like a minefield. And that was never good.

Manoel tilted his head and watched her as she was seemingly trying to pull herself together. He could tell it had been a hard day for her.

"Everything alright, _linda_?" he asked concerned.

Rogue made a face and pressed her lips together. "I’m working on it."

"You wanna talk about it?" he offered.

Rogue shrugged one shoulder, keeping her eyes on the counter. "No use," she said concisely. "Can’t be undone."

"It might help you unload a bit," Manoel suggested.

Rogue thought about it, but decided against it. "Maybe another time; but I appreciate it anyway," she thanked him.

"Anytime," he answered with a pat on her arm and went to grab a beer. "So, what are you having?"

"The usual," she said, taking off her leather jacket in a swift move and resting her elbows on the counter.

Manoel took a water soda out of a fridge and placed it in front of her, along with a tall glass filled with ice and a slice of lemon.

"Just make sure you pace yourself, ok? I don’t want you to get wasted and start causing trouble in here," he mocked her.

"Foda-se, velho," she retaliated with a cunning grin. _Fuck you, old man_.

"I’d love that, but I don’t think either of us would come out of it alive, babe," he stated.

Rogue laughed again as Manoel winked at her with a smirk and left for the kitchen for a while. He probably didn’t have anything to do back there, but she was pretty certain he was just giving her some time and space to settle down a bit.

While she was pouring her beverage in the glass, the memories of how they met came back to her. That was a trip to the past she had no problem taking.

She remembered when she set her foot in this bar for the first time. Barely twenty years old, she had already began her training and the man who was then mentoring her believed in her skills enough to want her to be taught about guns "by the best", as he’d told her.

Manoel’s mutation was about fires and ammunition; he could be holding any kind of weapon in his hands for the very first time, and yet know its name, exact size, weight, ammo capacity and range. Most people had to pick the right gun for them; Manoel just had to pick one depending on his mood, and a target to hit. And no matter how far or how hard it was to get it, he always succeeded.

The large Brazilian owed Rogue’s handler a favor, but even so, he wasn’t willing to take her over just like that. The catch was that she had to convince him she deserved this chance; she’d later realized that it was part of her training – find ways to get around what you want. A most useful lesson indeed.

She reminisced the time they were introduced to each other and confessed about their mutations and how they chose their names; a nostalgic grin escaped her and she brought to mind the moment they’d earned each other’s respect and friendship, as well as the times between her training, where she enjoyed teasing him:

_"So, why the nickname 'le Pistolero'?" she’d asked one night._

_"I’ve been training you for 8 fuckin’ months, and you’re asking me now?" he returned while wiping a glass._

_She shrugged and pretended to act like she didn’t care much. "You know me; I’m discreet and quiet like that."_

_"Yeah, until you decide to make some noise and bring down my entire fucking bar."_

_Rogue rolled her eyes as she began to blush. "How much longer you plan on throwing that at me? I apologized a dozen times – not something I usually do – _and _I paid for the damages. Plus, I didn’t start the whole thing; these assholes didn’t know how to treat a Southern lady properly."_

_"True," Manoel agreed. "That’s why I still let you come back here while I told these dicks to never set foot in my place again unless they want to be minus one foot…_and _dick."_

_Rogue grinned knowingly as he eyed her teasingly. He was as tough as a man could get, but somehow she’d managed to get under his skin. Apparently, that was one of her "gifts" as well; being hard men’s soft spot. _

_"So…are you gonna tell me about the name? Why 'le Pistolero'? Why not something more…Brazilian?" she insisted._

_Manoel looked at her. One of the things she loved about that _rapariga_ was her stubbornness. She didn’t seem to be afraid to push things with him, and that was something extremely rare._

_"I was born and raised in a _favela_ in S_ã_o Paolo; plenty of Spaniards back there. _Mi abuela_ was Spanish too. Plus, it sounds cool," he said with a shrug. _

_Rogue giggled and nodded in mocking agreement. "Can’t argue with that," she said in a fake serious note as he leaned his bottle towards her to cheer._

"What’s that smile for, _linda_?" Manoel’s gravel voice brought her back as he walked back to the counter.

She looked at him flustered. "Just reminding myself the good ol’ days; I miss them," she muttered melancholically.

He watched her intently. "I see," he murmured, but didn’t push for more.

Rogue threw her jacket on one shoulder and grabbed her bottle and glass. "I’ll just be in my corner, drowning in self-pity, ok?" she said as she stood up.

While she was shuffling her feet to her usual, isolated spot, she heard Manoel call her.

"_Vampira_!"

She turned and eyed him questioningly.

"If you need me…I’m here for you," he stated.

Rogue blinked and her lips went up at the same time with her glass. "Muito obrigado, meu amigo; muito obrigado."

……………………………………

Logan killed the engine of the Harley he’d borrowed from the Mansion’s collection once he saw the red Ducati parked outside the place Charles had pointed him.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the sign of the bar, not quite being able to believe the Rogue he once knew would ever choose a shithole like this to spend her night at.

_What in fuck’s name is she doing in a place like this?_

In a flash, the bar where they’d first met crossed his mind. She, sitting on a stool, covered in a green hooded coat, looking starved and exhausted. He took a deep breath and let it out from his departed lips. _Not so crazy for her to be in a hole like this after all_.

He walked in and took a look at the place.

It was pretty much the usual dive he was used to, though slightly more decent than the most he’d been. The big fighting cage on the left caught his eye and stirred something within him; it had been a long time.

He watched the patrons drinking and smoking and heard a heavy, gruff voice yelling something in a language he couldn’t put his finger on. The guy the voice belonged to looked like a Mexican and when Logan took a few more steps, the man turned his head and gave him a quick once-over.

Logan didn’t pay much attention as beyond the smoke, the sweat and the smell of liquor in the air, he’d caught her cool, gentle scent and now his eyes were focusing on her at the far end of the bar.

She was perched in a corner, eyes on her glass while her thin, delicate fingers were whirling it inside her palms. Her gloves were neatly placed on the side and she seemed lost in thought.

Logan began to approach her slowly, almost carefully, keeping his focus on her the whole time; he barely glanced at the suspicious look the bulky Mexican guy gave him through narrow eyes. He ignored it; it would take something more than an asshole attitude for someone to stray him from her.

He watched her closing her eyes, releasing a sigh in exasperation; he hoped it wasn’t for him.

………………………………………

The moment Rogue had heard the Harley’s growl outside the bar, she’d hoped it would be a gang member or a passerby biker. But, she knew that particular sound all too well after all the times she’d heard it sing every time she rode the beauty, and her gut never lied.

She heard the door open and caught his tall figure from the corner of her eye checking the place first and then her, just as his scent sneaked its way through the stench of the other "testosteronies" in the bar.

Manoel was bullying one of the boys of his staff, but noticed the newcomer closing the distance towards her determinately, as he was deftly maneuvering among the chairs and tables to get to her.

Rogue kept her eyes on the glass as she did the whole time she’d sat there, whenever her gloves weren’t stealing occasional glimpses from her. She’d put them on the table, leaving her hands exposed for a reason. The bar regulars knew this move was a clear message; back off. The rookies who could not grasp the concept of a woman enjoying her solitary without looking to get laid, would learn the hard way – with Manoel’s contribution, or hers.

Of course, none of this counted for "the Wolverine". The guy was as stubborn as a mural and as spoiled as a five-year-old rich kid. Whatever he wanted, he did; or took. And to hell with the rest.

She heard his boots beating the wooden floor as he was approaching, looking calm and collected, trying hard not to give away his inner turmoil and tension; she knew that act all too well.

Fully aware of what was coming, Rogue suddenly felt the previous physical and emotional exhaustion return in crashing waves. She sighed and closed her eyes in resignation, covering them and her forehead with her hand.

The footsteps silenced and she felt his presence lingering just beyond her.

Rogue let her hand drop on the table with a thud and looked at him frustrated.

"Oh my God! What a coincidence!" she said, her words dipped in irony.

Logan didn’t deter. She’d need something more than a smartass remark to shake him this time.

"Is there room for one more?" he asked casually, pointing at the seat across her with his head.

"Is there any point asking since we both know you’re gonna sit anyway?" she said, waving her hand in a "whatever" way.

Logan draw the chair and sat. He turned to the counter to signal for a drink and saw the bartender giving him an ominous look. He frowned at this.

_What the hell was up with that guy?_

Manoel turned to Rogue.

"_Vampira! _Tudo ok?"_ Rogue! Everything ok?_

Rogue gave a curt nod and lifted her hand in a reassuring gesture. The last thing she wanted was for these two scrappers to get into a rooster fight; no good would come out of it.

"Sonja’s here somewhere? I believe you got a new client and he’s going to be awfully thirsty in a while," Rogue said knowingly, giving Logan a provoking stare.

Manoel left the counter and approached them swiftly. He put a hand on Rogue’s shoulder and the other on the table. He checked Logan once more, and Logan returned the gesture as he leaned back carelessly.

After the two men had sized up each other, making sure they’d made their points, Manoel spoke first. "Sonja’s a little busy right now. But I’m free as a bird for the rest of the night," he said, making his point clear; _I’m watching you_.

Logan eyes swept from the old man to Rogue, and then back. They seemed to know each other too well, given how protective his attitude was. He wasn’t sure he liked it – especially the casual way he’d placed his hand on her – but at least he knew she’d have someone to watch her back if one of those pricks in here tried to make a pass at her.

At that thought, Logan gave Manoel a nod as he held his eyes. "Got it," he clarified. "Since you have too much time to spare, how about you bring me a beer?"

Manoel gave him a crooked smile and took his hand off Rogue. She knew where this was going and decided to end it herself. She placed a soothing hand on his arm.

"Deixe ir Manoel; o homem é um idiota assim." _Let it go Manoel; the man is a jerk like that. _

Manoel seemed to relax a bit and Rogue continued. "Bring him his beer," she asked politely and then turned to Logan. "And a bottle of whiskey from me; he’s going to need it before this night is over."

Manoel snickered, giving Logan a "you’re so fucked" look. "Comin’ right up," he said and walked away.

Logan watched him place a beer and a bottle of whiskey along with a glass on the counter before signaling a waitress – probably this Sonja chick – to take them to their table. The woman placed Logan’s order and Rogue’s offer in front of him and set off immediately.

Logan took a big gulp from the beer and pretended to contemplate its label for a while. Rogue knew he was trying to find a way to start the conversation, but she wasn’t willing to offer any kind of help. If he was so determined to keep chasing her until she relented and decided to acknowledge him, then he should find the way to do it himself.

Logan took another sip of courage, and frowned as he looked at her. "Did this guy call you a _vampire_?" he asked pointing the tip of the bottle towards Manoel.

Rogue’s face showed no emotion. "Yes," she responded plainly.

Logan just couldn’t get it. "Fuckin’ _why_?"

She huffed and looked at him as if she was speaking to a child. "Because that’s my name."

He shook his head curtly. "Ok, you just lost me."

"_Lost you?_" Rogue snorted sarcastically before taking a sip from her glass. "I never _had_ you."

Logan froze. His breath stuck in his throat and suddenly the atmosphere felt sultry and asphyxiating.

Rogue realized she’d brought out the big guns a little too soon. Within seconds, the mighty Wolverine looked pale and as uncomfortable as a fish would be outside the water; she actually felt a twinge of pity for the poor bastard, so she decided to be the better person and cut him some slack.

"_Vampira_ means 'Rogue' in Portuguese; Manoel is from Brazil. It feels more at home for him to call me that." She gave a short bitter laugh. "I could’ve never imagined the other meanings the name I chose years ago has; until he told me. Ironic, isn’t it? I accidentally picked the _perfect_ name for my mutation – before I’d even have the chance to realize what it made me capable of," she concluded and her laugh died.

Logan just sat there, watching the resentment pour out of her. He hated seeing her so…sore about her powers. He shared her pain though; it was never easy to carry a mutation that took so much from your soul. He knew that all too well. And from the moment he’d known who she was, what she could do, he was well aware that he’d found someone who could truly see him for what _he_ was.

_…and that’s pretty rare…for people like _us_._

He snapped back to the present. It angered him seeing her so jaded – and so did the Brazilian who kept watching them while he pretended to be busy. Logan raised an eyebrow at him and threw her the question that’d started to nag him too much.

"How did you meet him?" she raised her head and blinked at him. "This 'Manoel' guy."

Rogue rested her back on the chair, trying to come up with the right words. "I was looking for ways to…'improve' myself," she said enigmatically. "I was sick and tired of being a victim, being pushed around by others, my own powers…Manoel is one of the people who helped me be what I am today. I owe him a lot. And so does our kind."

"Our _kind_?" Logan’s both eyebrows jumped up sardonically. Since when she was talking like _that_?

"Yes; our _kind_," Rogue emphasized. "Manoel is a mutant and a former bounty hunter. He’s considered one of the best – if not _the_ best. Many of the extractions we managed in the past three years happened thanks to him. And even after he considered me capable enough to take care of myself, he was always there for me in every way possible; he still is," she whispered and her eyes focused on the man, holding an affection that Logan remembered once being preserved exclusively for him. He felt a sting that seemed a lot like jealousy, and even though green was incredibly gorgeous on her, it wasn’t his favorite color by a long shot.

"Is that why you’re drinking that?" he clanked his index on her soda. "He knows you’re over twenty-one right? No reason to keep you alcohol free," he tried to joke, but he had no idea the kind of nerve his comment had hit.

Rogue winced – an almost imperceptible move, yet Logan managed to catch it. He was trying to make her feel comfortable around him – just like old times –, yet no matter how hard he tried, somehow he always ended up saying the wrong thing.

He saw her growing tense and slipping further away from him. "Darlin’?" he asked carefully.

At that, Rogue’s eyes goggled and her pretty red lips opened slightly. Logan focused on them, mesmerized.

"Come again?" she asked.

Logan shrugged a bit smugly, a part of him content that he’d succeeded to throw her off balance. "Well, you made perfectly clear to me a few hours ago that you’re not a kid; and I agree. You’re most definitely _not_," he stated and checked her out, enjoying more than he probably should her sudden self-consciousness under his inquiring stare. "So, I thought I’d find a new way to call you."

"Something’s wrong with my name?" Rogue asked in a challenging tone.

"Nope; it’s just that names don’t mean much to me. They just exist so we can call people something in a formal way," he claimed while he was taking a cigar and his lighter out of his right inner pocket.

"Exactly; which is why I don’t understand why you have to give me a nickname of your own when I got a name I chose for myself?" Rogue demanded.

"You’re not just 'people' to me, _kid_," Logan said as he lit his cigar and took a long drag, highlighting the word "kid" for good measure.

It was Rogue’s turn to be stone still, realizing for the first time what “kid” had meant all along. It was never about degrading her to a certain age connected with immaturity and naivety, nor did it have to do with an age difference that brought power imbalance; since the beginning, she’d had it all wrong.

She swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the bump that had suddenly got stuck on her throat. She moved a bit to shake off her numbness and got to ask her question.

"Who told you?" she muttered, not feeling ready to look at him yet.

"Who told me what?"

"Where to find me? Charles?" she guessed.

Logan puffed out a large cloud of smoke and licked his lips. "Yeah."

Rogue nodded. "Of course."

"Don’t get pissed at him. He was worried about you."

"He always is," she sighed.

"Not without good reason, from what I can tell," Logan told her.

Rogue looked at him suspiciously. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

He twirled his cigar in his fingers, giving her a penetrating stare. "You seem a lot different than the girl I last saw four years ago."

"And that surprised you _that_ much?" she asked, puzzled.

"More than I thought it would," he admitted.

"Just because time has a different pace for you, doesn’t mean that the rest of the world keeps from spinning for _your_ sake, Logan," Rogue said abruptly.

Logan flinched at the sound of his name; this was the first time since they saw each other again that she’d used it.

Rogue stood her place, not backing down, eyes on him the whole time. If he wanted the truth and was eager to know facts, then she’d give them to him; but she wasn’t going to sugarcoat it for his sake. 

Logan took in a sharp breath and went for it. "What happened Rogue? I keep asking everyone, and no one’s willing to give me some goddamn answers."

Rogue kept staring at him, lips pursed into a thin line, anger shining in her eyes. "_Life_," she whispered. "Life happened. And no matter how hard I tried to escape it, no matter how far I ran, eventually I got caught by it."

Logan had polished off his beer some time ago and now he was attacking the whiskey straight from the bottle. Her vague answers were starting to get on his nerves; neither of them was leaving this place until he got what he wanted.

He put out his cigar viciously and went for the golden liquid again.

"Where did you go after the cure?" he demanded.

"Away," she immediately answered in a blank expression.

He clenched his fists, feeling his control sleeping.

"Why don’t you drink?" It nagged him ever since he noticed what she was drinking. She was in a bar for fuck’s sake. And she was more than legal enough to drink. What was the point to be in such place if she didn’t like alcohol?

"I can’t," she said through gritted teeth.

"Why not?" he pushed.

"Too dangerous." Her tone of voice was a warning not to pressure her even more; but he wouldn’t listen.

Logan felt something inside him snap and grabbed her hand, pulling her close to him.

"What happened to you? What made you be like that? Who the hell taught you all that shit you know? _Why aren’t you telling me anything_?" he snarled.

Suddenly, he heard it. A safety off. He turned abruptly and saw the old man – Manoel – pointing a shotgun at him. Several of the patrons were standing, their hands on their guns, waiting for a signal to start shooting.

"Esta bem, Manoel", Rogue yelled, reaching out to him. "It’s ok; everything’s ok. There’s no reason for this."

Manoel wasn’t convinced. "You want me to kick him out?" he asked.

"No, no! It’s fine," Rogue attempted to reassure him. "Besides, if I wanted, I could kick him out myself; you know that right?"

Manoel wasn’t convinced, so he kept his gun pointed at a growling Logan.

"Manoel, trust me on this," Rogue pleaded. "You don’t wanna waste your bullets."

"I’d listen to her if I were you, bub," Logan grunted.

"I’d keep my fucking paws off her if I were you, _filho da puta_!" Manoel yelled.

Logan hissed, and Rogue lightly touched his hand that was still holding hers. At this, he turned to her and his eyes immediately fell on her hands. He’d forgotten they were gloveless and that he’d been gripping one of them for some time.

His eyes locked on hers, communicating his shock to her silently. _What the fuck?_

Rogue tried to calm him. "Logan, please. Let go of my hand and sit down, ok?" she soothed him.

He inhaled deeply to restrain himself and let her hand slowly. He glared at Manoel and the men who were still on guard and Rogue signaled them to lower their guns. Manoel put away his and the others followed his lead.

After a couple of minutes, when everything was back to normal, Rogue gave Logan a stern look. "Never pull a stunt like that in here again, you hear me?"

Logan looked at her furiously. "Stop playin’ fucking games with me kid," he hissed. "I want answers, and you’re gonna give them to me. Understood?"

"You’re in no position to demand anything from me," Rogue hissed back. "_You _left, remember? You’re the one who disappeared for years without looking back! Just because you felt like coming back _now_, you think you have the right to ask for things to be like they were? _No_!" she yelled the last word.

Logan’s face snapped back, as if she’d slapped him. Suddenly, he felt his anger cool down, realizing how right she was; he’d left without as much as a goodbye or the intention of coming back again someday. All those years he’d spent trying to pick up his pieces and put them back together her thought had accompanied him, knowing – believing – that she was out there keeping him in her thoughts too.

_Life…life happened_, she’d said. Apparently, life had happened to her in such way, that it left her with no choice but to put everything behind her and reinvent herself. And while she was recreating the puzzle of her, the piece that was him had been tossed somewhere aside. He could see it clearly now; it was his blame. _His_ fault. And what stung was that she’d been dragged down by it.

"Jesus…I’m so sorry kid," Logan whispered, shaking his head in remorse. _"So_ sorry. I just thought-"

"That you’d be back and the innocent, naive 'kid' would still be here, hoping you’d finally notice?" she asked bitterly.

He glanced at her in something that looked a lot like guilt…and shame.

She shook her head solemnly. "Doesn’t work that way, sugar. Not anymore at least."

"_Sugar_?" he said, cocking an eyebrow at her.

She shrugged a shoulder in an almost girly way. "If you’re gonna have a name for me, I might as well have a spare for you," she said almost playfully.

He smirked and looked at her sadly. "You’re not gonna tell me what happened to you, are ya?" he concluded.

She let silence stretch for a while before she spoke again. "Do you know what I like the most about this bar?"

"The lovely environment? The innovative decoration? The gun-packed assholes?"

Rogue ignored his sarcasm. "Its name."

Logan frowned, thinking about it. "Sleeping Dogs." It was more of a statement than a question.

Rogue nodded slowly, her eyes fiery and focused on him. "Let ‘em lie," she whispered.

Several moments passed. Logan was watching the woman before him deliver her feelings about him, her past, and herself soundlessly, and sorrow began to rise within him. He nodded resignedly and lowered his eyes to her hands. He noticed the long, sleek fingers; the flawless, ivory skin that always looked so soft and vulnerable. He focused even more and could almost see the devastating force lurking under the porcelain complexion, ready to savage anyone who would make the mistake to be fooled by the deceptive appearance. Death wrapped in beauty; perhaps "vampire" wasn’t so off after all.

He rubbed his fingers together, itchy in their desire to feel the skin she once kept so diligently hidden to protect herself and others. He wondered if she’d share something so important and personal with him; thin chance…but then again, at this point, what was left for him to lose?

"Can you at least tell me about this?" he asked calmly, as he reached hesitantly towards the same hand he’d grabbed a few minutes ago that was now lying on the table.

She watched him carefully as he reached out, and with the upper side of his palm he gently brushed his knuckles over the velvet skin that covered the steel underneath. Her breath hitched and color rose on her cheeks; she seemed to be embarrassed by the question, and suddenly she looked like the young girl he’d found in his trailer several years ago.

"I don’t…need them as much as I used to," she said a bit shyly, looking at her gloves.

"You found a way around it?" Logan asked impressed. "Then why the gloves?"

"I’m not there yet. I just…I can slow it down for several minutes when I’m focused. But it’ll take more time and effort to fully control it," she finished awkwardly.

Logan grinned at her as he nodded in approval.

"I knew you’d eventually get a grip on it, darlin’. You never needed the cure for that," he said, a tone of certainty and pride filling his voice.

Rogue shifted in her seat uncomfortably and placed one of her white strands behind her ear. "And you?" she asked in an effort to turn the conversation on him.

"What about me?"

"You’ve been chasing me around all day, asking questions, demanding answers; yet you haven’t offered anything in return," Rogue chided him. "That ain’t right."

"Huh," Logan huffed and finally took the glass near him and poured some of the remaining whiskey in it. "Good point," he agreed. "What you wanna hear?"

She pouted and shrugged sassily. "Whatever it is you can and want to share. Just make sure it won’t be important stuff, so I’m not gonna have to return the favor by sharing _my_ important stuff," she made clear.

Logan smiled. _Clever vixen_, he thought. Keeping the conversation neutral would give them the chance to share enough to bring them closer, but not too much to rip off old scabs, or give away secrets and feelings they weren’t ready for. He felt excited – almost giddy – and enthralled; how many more were to be unfurled in this woman? What was waiting for him to discover it?

Not tonight. Tonight it would be about a new beginning; a fresh start where he’d make sure the old mistakes wouldn’t be repeated, nor taint what was laying ahead. He had time; and he would take as much as necessary to build a new bridge to restore the old connection that would take them to places he wasn’t afraid to explore anymore.

"Heh. Deal," he agreed nonchalantly and began to talk.

They didn’t notice that for some time now they were the only ones left at the bar, until Manoel decided it was time for them to call it off.

"Ok, lovebirds," he declared and Rogue rolled her eyes to hide her discomfiture as Logan was focusing on the cigar stabs that were now filling the ashtray. "It’s about to be sunrise; and even though I’d love to keep this place open just for the two of you, I really need a break from this dive; and some sleep."

"Sorry Manoel; it’s been a long time and we kinda got carried away," Rogue apologized and reached for her wallet.

Before Logan could stop her, Manoel did. "Don’t worry about it; it’s on me."

"Can’t let you do that, bub," Logan protested, and Manoel cut him with a wave of his hand.

"That’s my bar; my bar, my rules _compreendo_?"

"Are you ever gonna let me pay for anything I drink in this place?" Rogue asked him.

"Nope; besides, it’s not like you‘re much of a drinker, _linda_. You’re low-cost _and_ makes me feel obligated to take advantage of it whenever I see it to," he joked.

"Oh, now _that_ explains a lot," Rogue teased back.

Manoel laughed. "Just get the hell out of here and let me rest my old corpse already," he said and turned to leave.

"Manoel," Logan called him and the bulky Brazilian turned around.

"Thank you. For _everything_," he said and Manoel knew he wasn’t talking about the drinks.

"No need to," he said as he shook his head, while his eyes darted to Rogue once more. "I would’ve done anything from the beginning in a flash," he assured and Logan exchanged a nod of respect towards him.

Rogue felt a lump form in her throat again, and dealt with it in the only way she could. "Can’t you guys at least wait until I find a lame excuse to hide in the bathroom? Do you really need to act like I’m not here?" she said in fake exasperation.

"Were you going to find a lame excuse to hide in the bathroom?" Manoel asked.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn’t hide in there even if my life was on the line," Rogue snorted, pointing behind her back.

"Then why bother not to talk like you can’t hear us?" Manoel asked indifferently.

At that, Rogue spread her hands and shot her eyes up as if she was praying for patience. Logan chuckled and Manoel smirked while he turned to leave.

"Well…it _has_ been enough for one night," Rogue said and began to get up. Logan took her hand again, and she looked at him.

"Rogue…," he started and she remained still, waiting for him to finish.

"I appreciate that; spending all this time with me – especially after everything you’ve been through today."

Rogue nodded curtly and smiled lightly. "We both needed it, I guess," she muttered.

Logan’s thumb was caressing her palm softly, and she looked at him questioningly. He knew it was much too soon, but maybe this wouldn’t have to be the last time they talked like this until they were ready again.

He braced himself and made the offer. "How about we repeat this tomorrow night? There’s a lot left unsaid, kid; _a lot_," he pointed out.

It was almost dawn and the conversation that had started as a means to a hard won truce, had turned to a way where two people who knew each other in ways no one else ever would, were slowly finding their way back to what they had…and what could be. The process was slow and hard, and there were several moments of uneasiness, followed by heavy silence; but their bond was resurfacing, tightening the loose knots that had been strained and grazed many times by the distance the years had put between them and the obstacles all their wrong choices had placed. And somewhere along the way, they both just knew; it would be a long road, but it was not impervious anymore.

Rogue tilted her head and looked at him. He knew she could see it too. And he realized she’d accepted the challenge the moment she grinned sassily and gave her answer.

"Your treat," she said and saw him mirroring her smile, as she turned her hand inside his to hold it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. See you soon!


End file.
